You Got Me
by qfd
Summary: Kensey Connor has known & been in love with one of the Staal brothers for most of her life  Max Talbot is still smarting over losing his girlfriend to teammate Kris Letang. One night could set both of their lives upside down
1. Chapter 1

_I think I felt my heart skip a beat  
I'm standing here and I can hardly breathe  
You got me yeah, you got me_

_The way you take my hand is just so sweet  
And that crooked smile of yours  
It knocks me off my feet_

_One look from you, I know you understand  
This mess we're in, you know is just so out of hand_

_I hope we always feel this way  
I know we will  
And in my heart I know that you'll always stay_

_(lyrics from "You Got Me" by Colbie Callait)_

**Chapter 1**

"Who says a woman can't propose? Who says it always has to be the man? Where in the hell is that written and what ignorant misogynistic bastard thought that shit up?" Looking into my band mate's reflection in the mirror as I finish drawing on my eyeliner, I see Duncan smirk and roll his green eyes.

"I dunna think that it's a plot," he laughs, the dimples that make all the girls scream for him deepening as he laughs at me. "It's just the way it is, is all. There are just some things that a lad should do and a lass shouldn't do," he adds with a raise of his eyebrow when I frown at him in the mirror.

"You're just saying that because you're a bloody great eejit of a man," I bare my teeth at him in the mirror as I use one of his favourite expressions from the old country, _his_ old country.

"Kensey, darlin', I'm sayin' it because I don't think you should be tyin' yourself to anyone, not now. In case you haven't noticed, we're on a fuckin' roll and your T & A is what puts food on our plates so...," his hand raises my feet off the floor as he smacks my ass.

"Hey, hands off the merchandise Dunc." I look up at the refection of the tall, pale and hunky ginger that's just walked into the room and a huge grin spreads across my face.

"Marky!" Spinning around I take two running steps and jump into the muscular arms of the man in the simple white t-shirt, jeans and a blue windbreaker. "When did you get here?"

"Coach took pity on me," he grins back at me and then presses his lips gently over mine before putting me back down on my feet. "And I told you I wouldn't miss the concert. How often does my girlfriend play the Hard Rock?" Is it stupid, after months of dating the guy, to still get giddy when he calls me that?

"Staalsy, my man, you know we love you but you're doin' nothin' for Kensey's rep," Duncan grins, punching Marc's shoulder and then holding his hand out. My men shake hands and laugh. "She's supposed to be a rocker queen but when you're around me laddo...not so much, you know what I mean?"

"She looks like one to me," Marc growls in his deep sexy voice, eyeing my purple and black lace corset and skin tight black vinyl pants, both of which leave little to the imagination.

"Lordy, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. You've got ten minutes Kens, don't make us late darlin'," Duncan lays a brotherly kiss on the top of my head and then slides past Marc and out the door and into the gloomy underground hallway. I wait until the door swings closed and then I let myself melt into the arms of the tall, solidly built red haired defenseman for the New York Rangers.

"I'm glad you could come," I whisper against his mouth.

"I'll remind you of that later when Avery's had a few and starts hitting on you again," he replies with the same easy grin that he and all of his handsome brothers share.

"No problem, I'll step on him with these," I reply, kicking up one of my boots with its platform sole and six inch heel, "somewhere it'll hurt. No, somewhere it'll leave a scar," I add with a wicked grin. Even with the inch platform and the stiletto heel, I'm nowhere near his six foot four height.

"The guys will appreciate it," he chuckles as he takes me by my shoulders and plants a longer but still soft kiss on my lips, a kiss that makes me go to my tiptoes to try and press my lips harder to his, wanting more despite the fact that we don't have time for that. As he always is, Marc takes the responsible route and breaks off the kiss before it gets to the point of no return.

"Thanks for coming," I whisper against his mouth.

"Your cd release party? You really think I would miss it?" he asks, his hands sliding up to cup my face. I shake my head, as much as I can with him holding my face in his big hands with their long fingers. "Glad to hear it. Now I'm supposed to tell you to break a leg or something like that," he adds, stroking my cheek with the knuckle of his forefinger.

"I think that's for actors. We rockers prefer the whole knock 'em dead thing," I tell him and that big easy grin of his is back that goes all the way up and lights up his blue eyes.

"Isn't that what you tell me before a game?" he asks, letting me go back to my make up table to reapply the bright red lipstick necessary for the stage.

"Mmm and didn't you just," I sigh, feeling all warm and tingly at the thought of the hit on Matt Stajan that's had Marc worried for days about a call from the league. "I had to change my panties after that."

"You're so blood thirsty," he says, shaking his head as he meets my gaze in the mirror. "I've always sais you would make a great enforcer."

"I thought you were gonna say that I'd make a great replacement for Avery," I shudder at the thought and we both laugh. No one likes his trouble maker teammate, surprisingly his teammates least of all.

"Believe me, I'd never do that," he replies with his own shudder. "Though I'm pretty sure you'd look better in his uniform than he does."

"I look better in anything than he does babe," I grin, turning around and stalking toward where he's standing, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets and the expression he's wearing tells me he isn't imagining me in shoulder pads and an oversized jersey.

"No argument here Kens," he replies with a sigh. We don't get much time together lately and what little we do is mostly spent in between the sheets with nothing on at all. I know how he feels as he gives me that half assed grin that says he is happy to see me but he'd be happier if we could just be alone and if we had more time. He's a good guy, but he's a stay at home kind of guy, happier to curl up under a blanket and watch re-runs of Friends than he is to be at a club. It makes my heart swell that much more knowing that he is here for me, that he's proud of me.

"Two hours," I promise, pressing my hands flat to the solid width of his chest. It feels like a big solid oak door that can't be knocked down; my big, sturdy man. "Two hours and I won't be Kensey Thunder, I'll just be Kensey Connor from Thunder Bay again." He nods and without removing his hands from his pockets, like he doesn't quite trust himself not to mess up my hair and make-up, he kisses my forehead as I lean into him.

"Knock, knock." With a groan I nod at Marc and he reaches over to push open the door to reveal Daze, our drummer, twirling her sticks impatiently. "I hate to break up the party but I've got to steal your woman back for a while. Y'know, concert, people expecting us. It's a drag, but watcha gonna do?" Marc laughs as he accepts a hug from the woman he's known as long as he's known me, seemingly unconcerned about all the safety pins, buckles and spikes that seem to be sticking out of her ripped black t-shirt with its _not the girl you bring home to mommy_ caption and from the two belts slung over her hips. "Hey Staalsy, I caught a glimpse of your little bro out there, still hobbled and grumpy as a bear with a bee sting."

"He's getting better," Marc admits though everyone will be happier when he's back on the ice and playing, and I mean everyone. "So, okay, kill 'em out there and I'll see you," he says pointing at me and winking, "later." I grin and watch him turn to go. I don't like him going but I like watching him go.

"Don't do it girl." I turn to Daisy, with her auburn pig tails, jade green eyes and splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks that make her look, to me, like a farm girl from Thunder Bay and not like the punk rock queen that the barbell through her eyebrow, silver look through her bottom lip and the spiked dog collar she's currently wearing around her neck would suggest. "Oh I know how long you waited for that boy to grow a pair and step up to the plate and admit that he loves you but that's exactly why you shouldn't do it Kens."

"But the timing is so perfect," I push the door closed and lower my voice. It won't be much of a surprise if this gets outside of this room. "I mean, he's probably just been waiting for us to get here you know? He's been doing his thing and now that he's past his rookie contract and we've finally got the album out, it's the perfect time but he's probably thinking that he should wait until we get back from the tour and I don't need to wait," I lean into the mirror to check my lipstick and eyeliner one more time while Daze stares at me, her arms crossed in front of her so that her drumsticks look a bit like the Egyptian Crook and Flail, which to her they kind of are.

"I know you love him Kens. I don't think anyone knows how much except maybe me." She doesn't have to remind me that she's been my closest friend and confidante since we were still running around in cut off shorts and braces, tagging around after the Staal and Pyatt brothers like the couple of tomboys we were and Daze still is. "But if he's not ready...," her voice falls away as I turn, eyes wide in horror at the very idea that Marc Staal, the love of my life, would not want to marry me. "I'm not saying he doesn't love you Kens," she adds, holding her hands up, her thumb and forefinger still clutching her sticks while she begs for not to stab her with the eyeliner pencil I'm holding. "I'm just saying, guys have this ego thing and he might not appreciate you cornering him like that. I'm only saying it because I don't want you to get your feelings hurt."

"You don't think I know him? You honestly think after all these years that I don't know my Marc?" I ask, letting her concerns roll over me like water off a duck's back. "He'll be relieved he didn't have to do that whole pull the ring out on Christmas Eve in front of his whole family like Eric did and have Jared and Jordy call him a pussy and all that," I grin at my reflection, firm in my belief that I'm right. "You'll see," I add raising my eyebrow at her reflection and smiling. "I'll be the soon to be Mrs. Marc Staal by the end of the night."

* * *

"You look like an idiot." I ignore Gronk's remark and go back to looking at...no drooling over the Thunder Daze program. So I bought a t-shirt and a poster and a cd and a program, so what?

"I'm a fan," I explain, gazing down at the centerfold of Kensey Thunder in all her Goth girl black leather halter top and skin tight shiny black pants, her electric blue eyes staring out from beneath a perfect line of thick black bangs looking so incongruous with the rest of the pale skin and black clothes and hair but there's something about those eyes that call to me...

"I thought you only listened to trance music," Sid reaches for the program but I smack his hand away.

"If you wanted one you should have bought one," I growl, not needing to look up to know that the guys are all rolling their eyes at me. "And I like some of their stuff."

"You mean you like looking at the singer," TK laughs and earns a raspberry from me. I can't really argue the point. Kensey Thunder pictures adorn the inside of my locker at the rink, are the wallpaper and screensaver on my laptop and phone and yes, like a teenager, I have a poster of her and the drummer, Daze Stormer on my bedroom wall. So sue me. They're hot.

"Don't tease Max, it's like poking a pit bull with a stick," Tanger pipes up and I would be grateful for his intervention except that he's been intervening in my life a lot too much lately. I haven't forgiven him for stealing my girlfriend yet and he knows it which is why he doesn't look over at me when I look up. His gaze is trained on the dark, empty stage. He's probably missing Becky right now and I'm glad. I know it's not nice, but neither is stealing your best friend's girlfriend.

"What does Lucy think about this whole crush?" Sid asks, checking his phone for the umpteenth time. His wife, Tabby, isn't due for another eight weeks but I know he worries about leaving her at home with their twins when she's as big as a house, even with the live-in nanny he finally talked her into hiring.

"I've taken her on, like, two dates mon ami. It's not like we're exclusive." That and though I like her and she's fun, the red-headed spark plug of a nurse works weird hours which makes seeing her on our schedule next to impossible. That and I can hardly get a word in edgewise. "Oh man," I flip the page to an even sexier pose with Kensey and Daze in a pair of matching skin tight black shiny cat suits and high heels. This one is so going up in my bedroom. "Have I thanked you for scoring us these tickets Gronk?"

"Yeah, about that, there's something you should know." Jordy coughs and looks uncomfortably towards stage door as it opens. I follow his gaze hopefully only to see his immediately older brother and defenseman for the Rangers emerging. Jordy waves at him to show him where we are and he nods. "I know I told you I know them," Jordan adds more quietly, tapping the picture of the two sex kittens before I smack his hand away, "but what I didn't tell you is that she," he adds, pointing at the dark haired siren who is looking back at me from the page with her unnaturally bright blue eyes, "is dating my brother."

"What? No...Fuck off." It's not that I was really thinking I had some kind of chance with the woman I discovered when I saw their video on MTV one night when we were stuck in a hotel room in Toronto because of snow, but... "No, fuck off, you're just saying that."

"I'm not Max, sorry. If I'd known you were gonna drool all over the place like this, I'd have saved you the heartbreak. I even kinda thought you were kidding when you asked if I could get the tickets." By this time his red headed brother has joined us and if he wasn't so fucking big and if I didn't think Jordy would jump to his defence and not mine, I sort of feel like I'd ask him to fight.

"You..._you_ date _her_?" I stammer, holding up the centerfold towards the lantern jawed defenseman and he smiles and nods, and not like he's trying to rub it in but just like it's a fact.

"We've all known each other since we were making mud pies and scraping our knees and stuff," Jordy tries to explain but I just make a face at him and shut the program, tossing it into the bag and dropping that and the poster under my seat before dragging the concert t-shirt off, leaving in me in the shirt I came in.

"Aww...look at him," TK laughs and makes a grab for my cheeks. Only the warning glare I shoot his direction stops him from doing something that would probably get his hands broke. "He's heartbroken."

"I am not," I snap, crossing my arms in front of my chest and glaring at my feet.

"If it's any consolation, I could probably get you in there with Daisy," Marc's low voice rumbles over the noise as it grows when the lights begin to go down.

"Daisy?" TK asks so I don't have to which is good because I'm telling myself I'm going to hate the concert, that I'm not even going to watch it now.

"Daisy's her real name. We always called her Daze or dazed and confused, it kinda stuck. She's kind of an animal in the sack," Jordan adds in a hoarse whisper into my ear. "If that would help at all."

"Oh good, more sloppy fucking seconds, no thanks," I snap, kicking the table leg and telling myself that the next time I get a chance at our big blonde forward during practice that I should break a stick over his stupid head.

"_Ladies and gentleman, for their first time touring in the USA in support of their first major release, please join me in welcoming to the stage, Thunder Daze!"_

"Hey, you dragged us here," Sid yells in my ear as the first power chords rock the room. "Get up and have some fun." Easy for him to say I think as I grudgingly get to my feet as a spotlight falls on her at centre stage, her milky white shoulders bare, her raven's wing black hair pulled back in a simple pony tail, her hands holding the mic stand as she waits for her cue. I glance over at Marc and shake my head. That tall red headed geek is one lucky mother fucker.

* * *

"You guys have been great tonight!" I yell as the crowd screams and claps for our second to last song. "We're going to do our last song now, but before we do," I glance back at Daze and she shakes her head but I just smile at her and turn back to the crowd, scanning for the tall brothers I've known most of my life. Marc's stature, broad shoulders and red hair isn't hard to pick out, even in a crowd. "I want to thank some of our friends for coming tonight, especially mine and Daze's good friends the Staal brothers. Some of you New Yorkers might know Marc as one of the d-men for your New York Rangers." Some of the crowd howls in response. Not as many as would do if we were closer to home, north of the border. "We've been friends a long time," I say, by way of explanation but mostly to him directly. "He's been a huge supporter of ours...of mine and I know we're all grateful but..." Duncan puts his hand on my shoulder and I know if I turn around he'll be wearing the same concerned expression Daze is so I don't. "Marc...I don't think I would be here if it wasn't for you," I blow him a kiss but predictably Jordan reaches out in front of Marc's face and catches it, the rest of the guys around them laughing as Marc shakes his head at his younger sibling. "I'm glad we've...figured things out over the last few months," I continue and wish that I could read his expression from here. I can see him, see him standing there with his arms crossed across his broad chest, but I can't read his handsome face. "I love you Marc and there's a long tradition of stubborn Irish women doing this so...here goes... Marc Staal, will you marry me?"

I feel my smile fade as he just stands there and does nothing.

At first I tell myself that he must have nodded and I just missed it but then I see Jordan turn to him and then the other guys turn to him too and then...and then he turns and shimmies his way through the crowd and disappears back towards the bar.

"No," I whisper, the mic in my fist down at my side doesn't pick up my voice. "You're going the wrong way."

"I think that's a no," Jonny T, our bassist whispers in my ear, his hand on my shoulder. I want to brush his hand off, want to tell him he's wrong, but the evidence before me is just a little too overwhelming for that, plus I'm sort of rooted to the spot.

"We've got to do the last song Kens." Duncan's Irish drawl in my ear makes me turn to him and nod, once, though I can hardly see him through my tears. His roguishly handsome features blur before me but I can tell, just, that he's wearing a supportive if pitiable smile.

"Yeah, last song," I mutter, reaching back to loose my hair from the ponytail so that it falls around my face, so that, as he hits a power chord I swing my hair so that it sticks in the sweat on my face so that, hopefully, no one sees that I'm crying.

* * *

"I can't believe he just left like that!" Jordan's gone after him, leaving us to find our own way backstage, without him, without his pass and without his introductions. Not that we need a pass, not with Sidney Crosby leading the way. The guy's like a living billboard. He's like fucking Moses parting the red sea. The security just lets us past, no questions asked, no hassle. We just keep going past groupies and record execs and finally find ourselves in a little room with a couple of beat up looking sofas with the band in them, all grouped around their lead singer who is sitting there looking tiny despite her platform heels, with her head between her knees.

She looks up at us when we come in, scanning our faces with hope glittering in her eyes despite the racoon like mess mascara and eyeliner have made of her face. It kills me when she doesn't find either Staal brother among our group.

"Asshole," she breathes and drops her head between her knees again.

Asshole is right. Anyone that could turn that down must be an asshole. Giant or not, when we play the Rangers next I am running him into a stanchion, head first.

"I guess this is a bad time to ask for an autograph," I hiss at TK who laughs and then just walks by me to introduce himself to the hot short wearing drummer whose nickname is part of the group's moniker. Her eyes go a little wide when she looks up at him, but then I realize she's not looking so much at him as all of us. It happens. We're kind of important like that.

"Asshole!" Kensey snarls again but this time she wipes at her cheeks with the back of her arm and then reaches for the bottle of Jack Daniels that's in the guitarist's hand. He lets her have it and she puts the bottle to her mouth and tips her head back, chugging the whiskey like it's bottled water. Impressive. "Fucking asshole!" she says again as she wipes her mouth and then gets to her feet and stamps over to the makeshift bar in the corner which is mostly made up of bottles of hard core shit like vodka, rum and scotch. She picks out a bottle of Jäggermeister, twists off the top and just downs it, like it's a shot.

"Wow, she's gonna be sorry in the morning," Sid says, taking a step back like maybe he's afraid her abandoned behaviour might be viral, and they call Toews Captain Serious.

"I told you she was my kinda chick," I grin and head for the table, grabbing a bottle of Sundrop and a bottle of vodka. She eyes me speculatively and if I thought those crazy blue eyes of hers' were mesmerizing in a photograph, it's nothing like being this close to her. "You're beautiful." It just comes out, like I have no fucking edit button. I blame Becky and Tanger but then if I really do you would think I wouldn't get this close to another woman so soon after having my heart stomped all over.

Is it my fault if I just love women that much?

"You're Max," she says, pointing what's left in the bottle of Jagger at me and narrowing her eyes. "I like the handlebar," she adds, tipping her head to one side so all of that jet black hair falls over her shoulder. "You should keep it." I make a mental note not to shave at the end of the month when the other guys shave off the moustaches they've been growing in support of finding a cure for testicular cancer or whatever. "I don't like the hat though," she adds, making a grab for the newsboy I've been sporting lately. I let her take it, but then, I'd pretty much let her do anything. "Nah, that's better," she says, putting the hat on her own head and then reaching to run her fingers through my hair. She smiles. Fuck me she has a pretty smile. "You're cute."

"I think you're a little drunk," I tell her, because it's the right thing to do. She grins and laughs and then tips the remainder of the Jagger into her mouth. I watch her red lips close around the neck of the bottle and shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. I've dreamed about those red lips closing around...

"I'm drunk, you're cute and my boyfriend left," she slurs, dropping the bottle to the ground at our feet where it smashes into about a million pieces. She looks down at it and then back up at me with a satisfied smile. "I guess that means no, huh?" she adds with a hiccup and then an adorable giggle.

"Kens...come away with you. We'll go back to the hotel, I'm sure Marc will be there. There'll be some explanation luv. Now come away." She turns and looks at her guitar player like she's never seen him before and then tips her head to the other side.

"You told me not to. I should've listened to you Duncky old boy," she grins and then throws her arms around his neck. He looks at me over her shoulder as he pats her back and says something soothing in what I can only guess is Gaelic or is it Celtic. Hell, how should I know, I'm Francophone.

"Like I said luv, I'm sure there will be some explanation. Let's just get you to the hotel and we'll figure it all out eh?" He peels her off of him like a child and she stares up at him sullenly and then, more suddenly than you'd expect someone who is so obviously off their head as she is, she turns and puts her arms around me.

"I like you. _You_ take me back to the hotel."

It's the wrong thing to do and Jordan's my friend but that part of me, that little devil on my shoulder, sniggers and says _go for it, you'll never get another chance_. So I don't look at her band mates and I don't look at my teammates. I just put my arm around her and sort of drag her out of the warm little room and down the hall, the whole time trying to ignore the screaming of the angel on my other shoulder.

* * *

Blessing or curse, being drunk for me is something like what I can only imagine it's like to be Stephen Hawking. It's like looking out of a pair of eyes of a body that I have no control over. I can't make her stop getting into the taxi or when the door to the taxi closes, I can't stop her from climbing onto Max Talbot's lap and planting my mouth over his.

I can't stop myself from kissing him, from wrapping my tongue around his or grinding my ass into his growing erection. I can tell myself this is wrong and stupid and a number of other things that should make me stop what I'm doing, but I can't actually make myself stop.

Part of me hopes he'll be a good guy, do the right thing, get me to the hotel and put me in the care of some bellhop or something, but he doesn't. Not that I can blame him. When he presses me to the wall of the elevator and grinds his erection into my stomach, I can tell he isn't exactly one hundred percent in charge of the choices he's making either.

My brain practically screams at me as I pull his shirt out of his pants and tug it over his head. My brain tells me to stop, that I'm making a big fucking mistake that I may not be able to fix later, but my body keeps on doing it. My lips close around his nipple and suck hard, until he squirms and grabs my hair and pulls my head up so that he can kiss me while he grinds our pelvises together and we dry hump until the elevator doors open again, right in front of a bunch of what looks like college kids who laugh at the drunks as we stumble down the hallway to...is it my room? His?

His, obviously as he pulls a swipe card out of his wallet and puts it in the reader on the door and then drags, pushes, pulls me into the room, his hands on the stays of my corset, cursing as he tries to figure out how to get at my tits. Laughing, I pull the zipper down in the front while my brain tells me to stop that this is the point of no return.

His mouth, his lips and tongue are on my tits and then we're falling onto the bed and my hands are down his pants and he's groaning and I'm giggling like a fucking school kid and just for a moment, one brief moment of clarity this reminds me of the first time Marc and I did this, after he came back from his first Junior World Championships and how we were both giggling nervously as we took each other's clothes off.

This is nothing like that. That took ages. This takes minutes, if that, before we're both naked and I'm staring down at something that looks a lot bigger than what I'm used to. I tell myself it's only because this Pens player is shorter, stocker than Marc, so it just looks different, but then he starts to push it inside of me and I know that all that stuff about noses and fingers and feet are just lies as I gasp out loud and squeeze my eyes shut against the feeling of being stretched beyond the point I'm used to.

But then it just feels good. No, not good, amazing. It feels so good that I want more, taking over, rolling him onto his back so I can control this. I want to feel my body envelop his. I want to make it last longer. I don't want it to be over right away.

He doesn't seem to mind. In fact he lies back on the bed and grins up at me, telling me how beautiful I look, how my skin glows. I think I tell him that I'm just sweaty but he shakes his head and runs his hands down over my breasts, down to my hips and tells me again that I'm beautiful and not just in English, but in French too. He calls me his belle fille, his belle femme. He says other things too, but I don't know what they are, they just sound nice.

He fills me, lifting his pelvis up off of the bed as he drives his cock up into me and it feels so good that I don't ever want to stop. I feel like I could do this all night but he has other ideas. I don't know how but I end up with my hands spread against the floor to ceiling glass window with him behind me, his hands on my hips, driving into me while I beg him for more.

It doesn't stop there either. The floor, the desk, doggy style on the bed, up against the wall...Marc has stamina but it's never been like this.

I hear myself screaming, feel his teeth in my shoulder, his strong hands pulling my hips back against him as he fucks me from behind and I like it, I like it so much and I want more and I remember a picture sliding off of the wall and hitting the floor. I remember watching it fall and thinking it was sort of funny and then I just remember fireworks going off in my head and feeling like my entire body was falling apart, melting and exploding all at the same time and then...and then...nothing.

* * *

"That's it," I sigh, staring at the poached egg on toast in front of me and wondering why I ordered it. "I woke up alone, the room was trashed and I was lying face down on the floor. I don't know when she left...I don't know how she left because she was fucked up," I shrug, poking my fork into the egg and watching it gush all over the toast before pushing the plate away.

"I can't believe she did that," Jordan says quietly, staring into his oj. He's white as a ghost and I wouldn't even have told him if he hadn't asked, but he did, and I know that I could have, maybe even should have lied, but for some reason I don't feel sorry about what happened. "As far as I know Marc is the only guy she's ever been with. No offense to you Max," he adds with a half assed grin that doesn't mean much, "but I think she probably would have done it with anyone, the mood she was in...I mean, from what you've said."

"Oh yeah, je sais qu'elle me utilisiés but if I had to get used...that was the best night of my entire life," I admit, still unable to wipe the smile off of my face that's been plastered there since I woke up stiff, sore and feeling like my cock might fall off from having been over used.

"Ugh! No one wants to hear that," TK groans, pulling my plate towards him. My stomach growls as he cuts into the now soggy bread. I'm starving, I just didn't want that. I flag down the waitress as she passes with two pots of coffee in her hands.

"Pancakes, sausage, bacon...the works please." She nods and heads off and I watch her go. Not because she's cute, which she kind of is, but because her ass kind of reminds me off Kensey's.

"You'll have to do wind sprints to work that off," Sid says in that disapproving tone he uses when he one of us is doing something he doesn't like.

"Mon ami, I can't think how many calories I already worked off, if you know what I mean," I grin and mime doing it doggy style and spanking her ass. She liked that. She giggled every time I spanked her.

"Jesus Max...don't...god," Jordan shudders and then pushes his chair away from the table and stalks off. I watch him go and then laugh because even that can't spoil my mood.

"Shit! What's with Gronk?" I mutter as I grab at the plain piece of whole wheat toast on Sid's plate.

"You fucked his sister in law." I open my mouth to object and Sid raises his eyebrow at me, so I don't. I just chew on the dry bread instead and hope that the waitress comes back with my food soon.

* * *

I use my key, my hand shaking as I put it in the lock. I don't know what's going to meet me on the other side of this door, or if he'll even be here. He could have gone to the hotel with Jordan, in which case he may have heard me screaming some other man's name and he won't be happy to see me, or maybe he's been here, in his own place all night and he still won't be happy to see me or...

"Finally, I wondered when you'd show up."

He yawns and stretches his long arms and legs and then slowly gets to his feet from where he's been obviously been stretched out on the sofa since last night. He's still wearing the same clothes. I've at least gone back to my hotel room and changed.

I watch him slowly walking towards me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before he wraps those long arms around me and pulls me into the warmth and the safety of his broad chest.

"I'm sorry," I whimper, but don't say more than that. If he doesn't know, I don't want to tell him, not if he's going to forgive me for trying to ask him to marry me.

"No, I'm sorry," he whispers, putting me at arms' length and then smiling down at me, revealing his straight white teeth. "You just took me by surprise Kens and I wasn't ready but...here." He digs into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a small box.

Tears stream down my face as he opens it and pulls out a huge diamond ring, bigger even than the one his older brother Eric put on his wife Tanya's finger. The band is platinum with even more diamonds on it and even in the dim light of his apartment with nothing but the half light of the early hours of the morning to light the room, the ring sparkles.

"I was going to ask you when we went away during the All Star break but, I guess you bet me to it," he says, slipping the ring on my hand. "I'm sorry I was a jerk and stormed out on you. Forgive me?" he says in that dark amber honey tone of his and I just smile mutely up at him and nod.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"You didn't tell him," I say quietly, picking at a worn spot on my jeans while I listen to his breathing on the other end of the line. "Thanks Jordan, really. It was a huge mistake and...well, we both know that he'd never forgive me."

"I'm not sure I can forgive you," he replies finally and that heavy weight sitting in the pit of my stomach gets heavier instead of lighter. "It better not happen again Kens and I mean never," he adds in a growl that is so unlike the normally happy go lucky member of the Staal clan that it sends a chill down my spine. It's both a threat and a promise and considering I can count the number of times I've seen Jordan angry on one hand, it's a threat I take seriously.

"It won't. You know how much I love Marc." I hear him make a noise on the other end of the line that sounds like a snort. There are things that don't need to be said, things that don't need to be dredged up out of the past, but I know when I say it that there is also no one, besides maybe Marc, that know how I feel more than Jordan. "You know I'd never hurt him if I could avoid it," I add more quietly.

"It's only because he was a jerk, walking out like that. That's the only reason I haven't said anything to him." I take note that he says haven't and not won't. It's the same threat. One wrong move and he'll pull the rug out from under me. "And maybe because it was Max and he'll sleep with anything," he adds in a disgusted tone, which is funny because it seems to me that it wasn't so long ago that Jordan and Jared were the ones playing the field like if they didn't use it they would lose it. Jordan's attitude has changed on that front lately and not because of Heather but I'm thinking now isn't the time to bring that up.

"Gee I didn't think that a pair of beer goggles were required for being with me but whatever," I smirk, trying to keep things light. That would normally work with Jordan, but as the silence drags out, I gather it's not going to work today.

"Don't fuck up Kens...just...just don't."

"I won't, I promise," I sigh, sitting back and staring at the other commuters in the traffic hell that is Manhattan. "I scared the shit out of myself Jordy. I'm not going to do something like that again."

"Yeah well...make sure you don't. Just because you're some kind of rock star now doesn't mean you can treat my brother like...well like that." Clenching my teeth I swallow the sarcastic reply that wants so badly to escape my lips about him and his on again off again girlfriend that isn't his high school sweetheart, but considering I'm standing in a glass house at the moment and I badly need his good will, for the second time, I choose to have that argument some other time.

"Got it Jordan. Anyway, we're just about at the studio so...I just called to say thanks for not ratting me out." I hear him sigh on the other end of the line and steel myself for another bout of guilt tripping but instead I hear one of his teammates calling him. "Sounds like you gotta go too."

"Don't make me regret it Kens, okay? Promise me."

"I won't," I promise again and this seems to somewhat satisfy him.

"Okay well...talk to you later." He hangs up and, feeling relieved I do the same, stashing my phone in my pocket.

"Shouldn't you at least sound sorry when you say that?" Daze smirks and kicks my shin with her heavy, buckled and thickly soled boot. I make a face at her and return my gaze to the other cars stuck in the morning gridlock with us.

"I _am_ sorry, I just don't need the whole pot kettle shit this time in the morning when my head is banging," I mutter. I'm not asking for nor am I expecting sympathy, especially not from Daze.

"I'm just saying, maybe the big oaf deserves to know what he could've lost you know? Maybe he had it coming to him." I glance over at her and shake my head.

"You know I've never wanted anyone but him Daze and besides," I sigh, exhaling onto the window of the taxi and drawing a heart in the steam, "I'm not into revenge."

"You mean _not normally_," she points out with elfin grin.

"No, not _ever_," I correct her, breathing onto the window again and putting Marc's initials into the heart.

"Never say never," she cackles and then ducks when I pull one of the bracelets off of my arm and throw it at her.

* * *

"You have that look on your face again." I look across the aisle to find Jordan staring at me with an unhappy look on his face.

"What look?" I know what look but one of my favourite things to do is bug the big blonde forward, especially when he's already in a foul mood. It's one of the reasons the Coach let him come with us on this trip, hoping that we'll be able to coax him into a better mood. Maybe I'm not quite doing that and maybe I have a death wish or something, but making him go off the deep end is endlessly entertaining.

"You're daydreaming again," he sighs and rolls his eyes before going back to paging through the magazine in front of him, the one he isn't really looking at. He's been doing that a lot lately. Not that Gronk's ever been a big reader but lately, what with not being able to play, he's been more distracted than usual and can't even seem to take the time to read the captions under pictures in a magazine. He just rips through it, literally, leaving pages hanging askew for the next person who might want to look at it. "I wish you wouldn't think about my sister in law like that."

"Hey, I didn't see a ring on her finger," I point out, "not that I was looking at her hands much except when they were holding onto my..."

"Hey, I said stop it!" When the veins start popping out of his forehead, that's usually a clue to back off but today I don't feel like it.

"I'm just saying, mon ami, it wasn't your brother's name she was calling out when I was...," I make a lewd gesture and the next thing I know Gronk's out of his seat, his magazine flying through the air, my laptop is on Duper's lap and he's got his big hands around my throat.

"Well she's engaged to my brother _now_ and you need to get that through your thick, stupid, skull!" I can feel my eyes starting to bulge and I can see stars in the periphery of my vision but I keep smiling at him and I don't fight or try and peel his big hands off of my neck.

I guess I do have a death wish.

"Jordan!" Dupers grabs one arm and Sid gets up from his seat and grabs his other arm and it's only when our Captain gets involved that he even looks at anyone but me. He still doesn't let go though.

"He's talking smack about my sister in law," Jordan hisses through his teeth. His eyes are bulging out and his entire face is red. Makes me wonder what I look like right now.

"He's being an ass, yeah," Sid agrees with Jordan and shakes his head at me, "but from what I remember your soon to be sister in law went pretty willingly Jordan," he adds, giving Jordan's tree trunk like arm a tug and I begin to feel his grip loosen, just as I start to see his bared teeth through a tunnel of warm, welcoming light.

"Don't talk about her like that!" God 'ol Sidney, distracting the big ape enough that he loosens his grip entirely and I'm able to slip down in my seat and out of his grasp.

"Pourquoi fait-il toujours aller trop loin?" Dupers cuffs me across the back of the head and gives me that 'why do you have to be such an ass?' look. Shrugging, I just grin at him as I back peddle towards the tail end of the plane where some of the guys are playing poker.

"So she said yes? Huh." Sid and Dupers both turn and give me the look, like why don't I know when to stop but like I said, maybe I've got a death wish. It's been kind of like that since my girlfriend left me for my best friend. I sort of don't care anymore. "Well she was probably just...accablé...overwhelmed by her night with a _real_ man who knows a few things about pleasing a woman." I hear the groans around me and I know that now I have definitely pushed it too far, but it's like I just can't stop myself or maybe I don't want to.

Jordan actually growls and for a minute I think to myself that I wonder what it's going to be like to have my head literally ripped off of my body and for another minute I wonder how many Penguins does it take to hold down an angry Staal and that makes me laugh which is the absolute wrong thing to do at that moment. That's when all hell breaks loose.

* * *

"It took a really long time for us to put this album together," Daze is telling Rock 101.9's Jennifer Kajzer who actually seems interested and isn't fiddling with buttons and dials while we talk. "But mostly because we have all this material because we've been together so long and it was hard for us to be objective about our songs. They're like our babies."

"Speaking of babies," Jennifer suddenly brightens and smiles at me. "I hear you've been dating one of the New York Rangers."

"That's right but we've known each other since we were kids," I add, because I feel I have to, because I don't want to be seen as one of those girls, like Elisha Cuthbert, who go from hockey player to hockey player like professional puck bunnies.

"Sooo you've known one another a long time," she draws it out and I catch her staring at my hand. I look down at the huge rock and realize I've been twisting the ring on my finger, drawing attention to it, without thinking about it. "Have you got some news for our listeners on that front?"

"Nnnno," I stammer, covering my left hand with my right and shaking my head, knowing my eyes are too wide and by her triumphant sneer she knows I'm lying.

"Kensey's a private kind of girl," Daze puts her arm around me and lays her head on my shoulder, going for cute and distracting all at the same time. Had there been a man across the desk, it might have worked too.

"So how do you plan to juggle being a rock goddess and having a family on the farm back home?" Jennifer asks, ignoring my imploring wide eyed gaze and Daisy's cute, 'look over here' smile.

"Umm, neither of us has lived on a farm for a while now but...uh...I guess I'll deal with that later?" I make it a question because I'm about to have a panic attack. It's one thing for everyone back home in Thunder Bay to know, but I've really enjoyed being able to walk down any street in Manhattan and not have people realize that the little goth girl and the giant red head are someone, anyone. I like being anonymous.

"I admit I'm not very good with hockey," Jennifer continues and suddenly there's one of the Ranger's programs in her hands and she's leafing through it. I find myself staring at the pages as she flips through them, knowing that at any minute his strong features are going to be staring accusingly up at me. "But I bet a few of his teammates are probably pretty jealous," she adds with a raised eyebrow. "I bet a few of them probably sneak pictures of you into their hotel rooms." If she's going for salacious, I'm happy to let her go there and predictably Daze says what I'm thinking out loud.

"Yeah, all but Sean Avery, because everyone knows the only pictures he beats off to are ones of himself."

* * *

"Jesus Christ Max!" I wince as she presses the ice pack to my eye and furrows her brow as she inventories the damage. "You're supposed to be the fucking class clown, make them fall over laughing, not make them hold you down and make TK give you Lorazepam."

"I haven't been feeling all that funny lately. Gee I wonder why that might be?" I sneer up at Becky who rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me before moving the ice pack further up to the goose egg on my forehead.

"Well someone has to talk some sense into you and it seems like I might be the only person you'll actually listen to. I mean, if you won't listen to Crosby, then someone has to try," she sighs and looks down at me with that exasperated look that should be coming from an older sister, not my ex girlfriend who's starting to show, pregnant with my best friend's kid.

"I'm fine. You should be talking to Jordan. He's the one that went complètement fou," I grumble, snatching the ice bag out of her hand and pressing it back over the gash on my forehead.

"Well from the sounds of things you _did_ kind of provoke him Max." Great, just what I need, my ex taking out her hormones on me.

"Skip the lecture Becks, I don't need it," I grimace as takes the bag of ice out of my hand and starts to apply a butterfly bandage to the wound.

"Fine, I will if you'll just tell me this. Why'd you do it? Why pick a fight with Jordan when you know he's like a bear with a sore head. I mean with his foot then his hand and Trina seeing that other hockey player back in Vancouver," she presses hard as she smoothes the bandage on my forehead and I honestly wouldn't put it past her to be doing it just to hurt me. Maybe she should just pour some salt into it and rub it around.

"You mean Kris didn't tell you?" I actually hope he didn't. Jesus I'm an asshole.

"He said you'd been behaving like your old self but considering I only know the sweet and fun Max, I guess I can't see how that person could have pissed Jordan off badly enough to end up...well...looking like this." Well damn, suddenly all the air goes out of my balloon and now I feel like a complete bastard. She _had_ to go and say that I'm sweet and fun. Banging Gronk's sister in law doesn't sound sweet...even if it was fun.

"What he probably meant is that I was whoring around and..." Damn, this is harder to say to her than it should be. I should want to toss it in her face, rub it in, but I don't. I've never felt ashamed of a one night stand in my life and suddenly I don't want to admit to being that guy.

"And...? Max...what did you do?" There it is. That tone again. Like she's my mother with her whole hands on her hips exasperated pursed lips thing going on. At least it makes it easier for me to say it out loud when she's looking at me like some kind of misbehaving toddler.

"I slept with Jordan's sister in law...well she wasn't at the time but apparently she is now," I reply nonchalantly, reaching for the bag of melting ice, but she sweeps it out of my reach and sends it crashing into the sink. "What?"

"Don't _what_ me!" she snarls, those little red dots appearing on her cheeks just like they do every time she's pissed off. "You stood right here and went on and on about your precious 'code'. What the hell Max? What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, évidemment," I mutter, unable to meet her judgemental gaze. I sit there, listening to her breathing for what seems like ages until I hear the sound I'm waiting for, that heavy, dramatic sigh she lets go when she's ready to give up.

"Max...what are we going to do with you?" I feel her hand dig into my hair and then her lips brush the top of my head and I listen to her walk out of my kitchen and down the stairs, leaving me sitting on a stool in my kitchen, alone, again and not feeling nearly as cocky as I did before.

* * *

"So what was _that_ about?" Daze hisses at me as we walk down the empty corridor of Rock 101.9, her fingers digging into my upper arm. "I thought you'd be thrilled to tell the whole world about your good news."

"Me too," I reply expressionlessly, feeling as bewildered by my own panic as my best friend obviously is by my out of character reaction.

"So is this, like...cold feet or something?" she asks and though I shake my head, I can't help wondering the same thing.

"I've never even _looked_ at anyone but...well anyone but one of them since...since I stopped thinking full time about horses and actually noticed that the Staals were at least as interesting," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and letting out a huge sigh.

"That's why I don't get that whole...melt down back there. Other than the band you've pretty much never talked about anything but them since you got your braces on," Daze smirks, hip checking me out onto the sidewalk. "Can it be that one night with the great Max Talbot has you actually having second thoughts about marrying the red headed wonder?"

"No," I shake my head as she sticks her fingers in her mouth and hails a taxi, loudly. "There's no way. I must just be hung over. That's what it is."

"Well I just hope your boy wasn't listening to that little interview or you'll have some serious 'splainin' to do sistah!" My stomach makes an alarming sound and I clap my hand over my mouth, sure my meagre breakfast is about to make a reappearance. "Oh girl...you're supposed to do that when you're about to get married, not when you just got engaged," Daze laughs, slipping her hands in my hair, ready to pull it out of the line of fire if necessary. "You so better not puke on Regis," she adds as I dry heave into the gutter.

"Or in my taxi," the driver warns. I give them both a dirty look and climb into the back.


	3. Chapter 3

(_These lyrics are from Summer Sun by Texas but I'm borrowing them for Kensey_)

**Chapter 3**

_Here comes the summers sun_  
_He burns my skin_  
_I ache again_  
_I'm over you_

_I thought I had a dream to hold_  
_Maybe that has gone_  
_Your hands reach out and touch me still_  
_But this feels so wrong_

"Whatcha doin'?"

I look up, one finger on a piano key, the other poised over sheet music to find Marc leaning in the doorway in nothing but an old pair of faded and well worn blue jeans. It's one of my favourite sights and one that would usually have me rushing to touch the pale, marble sculpture that is his chest. Tonight I just smile and shrug.

"Scribbling," I reply, turning the pencil over and erasing the last note I drew. It needs to be lower.

"You've got an album out now. I thought you'd take a break from writing," he says, crossing the floor to peer at the sheet music spread out across the baby grand he had put in this room for me. It was as good as any engagement ring at the time. Not that I don't appreciate it now that I actually have a rock on my finger, but I'm beginning to look at a lot of things differently.

"It comes when it comes," I explain, watching him make faces as he tries to read my chicken scratch. He gives up after a moment, which I knew he would. Impatience is a trait in the male line of the Staals.

"Yeah, you've always been scribbling on something. I'm just glad it's finally on something other than a napkin or the back of a label off a bottle of bud," he teases, pressing his lips to the top of my head. "So, does this mean that you won't be coming to the game tonight?"

"And miss you beating up on...oh that's right, your dumb brother is now rehabbing his hand so you won't be beating on him," I smile up at him and watch the grin grow across his features.

"Jordy rehabs slower than any player I know," Marc grumbles, and not in a way that sounds indulgent but more in a disapproving older sibling sort of way. As if Jordan broke his hand on purpose right before he was supposed to be finally making his comeback after rehabbing his foot.

"Jordy's always been sort of...unlucky," I offer but Marc shakes his head.

"Jordan needs to learn when to chill out. He's always doing stupid shit or running his mouth when he shouldn't. Talkin' instead of walkin', that's what dad always said about him," he adds in that big brother knows best sort of way that both he and Eric have when it comes to their two younger, wilder siblings.

"I think he's due some good luck for a change," I sigh and, with one more look at the mess of paper on the baby grand, I unhook my feet from around the stool's legs and get up. "The rest of the Pens seem to finally be pulling their heads out of their asses, maybe by the time he gets back they'll be on a real roll."

"There you go," Marc shakes his head before pulling me into a quick hug and pressing another fraternal kiss on my cheek, "defending my little bro again. What would Jordy do without you in his corner?" I'd say it isn't true but we both know that it is.

"It's not my fault that you and Eric were off being heroes already while Jarhead, Jordy and I were still playing hide and seek," I argue, and not for the first time. Marc smiles and laughs and then makes a face and I know what he's thinking. He's picturing me with glasses and a mouth full of hardware.

"Don't do it Red," I warn, knowing that look and what it usually portends.

"Oh c'mon are you saying that you'd be mortified if had them put up that picture of the two of you making mud pies on the Jumbotron?" he asks, grinning like he thinks it's the funniest damn thing in the world. I, on the other hand, find the prospect of seeing my younger self covered from head to toe in mud on a giant screen at MSG far less amusing. "Oh, are you worried about your big rock and roll rep?" he asks in a sarcastic sing song tone. Taking a deep breath I remind myself that just because I'm in a bad mood doesn't mean that I should pick a fight, even if he's asking for it.

"I know you don't understand..."

"Oh I understand, I just don't like it. It's fake Kens. All that tough rocker girl shit is bullshit and you know it." We've had this argument more than once since the band got signed and the management company they assigned us to started making 'adjustments' to our image. It turns out that girls can't just wear jeans and t-shirts and sell singles on iTunes.

"I don't come down on you when you put one of your brothers through the boards," I point out quietly. I'm walking on thin ice here and I know it. How they play the game is up to them, but then, so should be the way I do my job, because that's what it is.

"Are you going to change?" It sounds like he's changing the subject, but he's not.

"I am," I answer curtly without glancing down at my own tastefully tattered jeans and well worn and faded Sudbury Wolves t-shirt. If it was up to Marc, this is what I'd wear to his game, this or his Ranger's jersey. But it's not up to him, just as much as it's really not up to me.

"There you go," he shrugs and turns to go back to the bedroom where he'll change into a sharp, dark wool suit that will make him look like he's just walked out of the New York Stock Exchange and not like he's going out to drill guys into the boards and take slap shots at poor Marc Andre Fleury's head. I think about going after him, following him into our room where he will have made up the bed after his afternoon nap and turned down the sheets on my side because win or not, he will be going to a bar with his brother later and I won't be invited. I consider it and then I tell myself that I wouldn't want to fight before I go out on stage and I should give him the same consideration, even though I think he's being unfair.

He'll apologize later, after he's finished being a fiery redhead and started earning his reputation as a calm, cool and collected stay at home defenseman. Maybe it will take Jordan saying something, but probably not. It's just their way, the Staal men, I remind myself as I take my place at my piano bench again and pick up my pencil. They're all intense in their own way, all passionate, determined, alpha males.

_Here comes the winter's rain_  
_To cleanse my skin_  
_I wake again_  
_I'm over you_

_

* * *

_

"You know the whole time you're sitting up there in the press box with her, she'll be thinking about me," I grin at Jordan and flex my pectorals at him like he's going to squeal like a puck bunny at me. Instead, he just shakes his head and sighs.

"_If_ she even remembers, she'll be so passed that by now. Have you seen my brother? Cuz if not, one word from me and he'll remind you, right up against the end boards," he grins menacingly at me but I've seen that look before and of all the Staals, Jordy's all bark and no bite, but Marc...on the other hand...

"You don't think she told him do you?" I've been so looking forward to reacquainting myself with the ebony haired temptress that I hadn't actually considered that Jordan's big red headed goon of a brother might actually know about our little tryst and be planning to make mince meat out of my innards.

"No," our big blonde injured forward sighs and goes back to trying to straighten his tie. Jordan never looks comfortable in a suit. Me, I like suits, I looks good in suits. Jordy always looks like a kid playing dress up to me. "She begged me not to say anything. I think you're safe but," he meets my eye in the mirror and bears his chompers at me, "one words and...," he draws his index finger across his adam's apple and grins.

"So you won't pass on the message that if she's looking for something not so much in the giraffe family I'm happy to provide a second helping of...," I shut my mouth when Jordan turns and gives me a really threatening look, a look I think I may have only seen once before. "Whoa...I was just sayin'..."

"Do yourself a favour and say less Max. She's my sister...it makes me sick just to think about her with..._you_." His nostrils flare and he actually shudders when he says it, like the way you do when you think about your parents doing it.

"She's not your sister yet," Sid interjects like a good captain should when he smells blood in the water, physically putting himself between me and the jolly blonde giant. "And to be fair, she had something to with...well, with what happened."

"She was drunk, he took advantage," Jordan says in this very final sort of way, like he won't hear any other arguments. Sid turns and gives me that look that says that I had better stop poking the bear or he won't come to my funeral. I get the message and go back to putting on my gear. It's bad enough with one Staal pissed at me, but two, and they might be calling for a body bag.

Of course, another night with Kensey might be worth it.

"I see the gears working in your head Talbot," Sid says without looking up from where taping his stick, "and I'm serious. Don't start world war three or you'll be back to picking up jail bait in Wilkes-Barre."

"Is that supposed to be a threat Cap?" I ask, and it's all Captain Serious can do not to laugh, but I can tell he thinks it's funny and he should. I'm fucking hilarious.

* * *

"Whoa, what was that for?" Jordan looks down at me where I'm still attached around his middle, my cheek still pressed to his chest.

"I'm just so happy to be with the not so moody brother for a little while," I tell him, heaving a happy sigh that makes his chest move up and down while he laughs.

"Is Marc on the rag again?" he asks, putting his long, strong arms around my shoulders again until I disappear into him. He smells like Silver Shadow by Davidoff, Ivory soap and Bounce, comforting and familiar scents all at once, not to mention how safe and protected I feel in his arms. It's like being home.

"Something like that," I mutter as he tips my chin up and searches my face.

"Does this have something to do with what happened...the last time we were here?" he asks, his happy go lucky puppy face morphing into something darker and more sinister looking as he dredges up that particular night. I shrug and unravel myself from him, moving to the front of the box and staring down at the ice where both teams are doing their pre-game warm-up skates.

"All I know is things have been..., well I guess the only way to describe it is that it's definitely been different since then," I pick out my own Staal brother easily, his tall lanky frame head and shoulders over most of the other players. Crossing my arms over my chest I start to wish that I had worn his jersey instead of the black leather bustier I am wearing under a simple black motorcycle jacket.

"Different how? You two fighting?" Jordan asks, his big imposing frame blocking out the light behind me, as if I have my very own eclipse. I should be used to that, but Marc isn't the defensive type. I'm usually being dragged behind him, running to keep up or fitting into his side like an accessory.

"Not...not really." I don't know how to describe it, but I know that I don't really need to explain it to his brother. Not in that many words.

"So he knows something is wrong and because you won't tell him he's being a grumpy fucker." Jordan can be so like Jared that way, straight and to the point, no games, no waltzing around the bush. If this had been Eric we'd be talking about this in terms of a third party, as if neither of knows the truth, even if we do. Eric wouldn't point fingers. It wouldn't be my fault, or Marc's. Eric would be a great marriage counsellor. But I am talking to Jordan and all I have to do is glance over my shoulder and smile and we both know we're on the same page.

"I know what I did was wrong but," I shrug again because I don't have the words to describe what's been going on in my head, "he's picking on me about my clothes, about the band...and sometimes I just want to throw it in his face so that he can hurt too, you know?"

"He did say you seemed a little...fuck, what was the word he used...uh...underwhelmed by the ring and all," Jordan says quietly, his big hands on my shoulders, one more weighty than it should be with its cast.

"I know it," I admit, leaning back into him and reaching up to run my fingers over his knuckles, feeling the tiny scars that criss-cross each one. Most of those scars are from beating on one another and not so much from fights since they've gotten to the big leagues. "I want to feel...I want to be happier, I should be but..." My voice trails away and I stare out at the ice, at where Marc is stretching his hamstrings. Just watching him do that used to make me drool and now I feel...nothing.

"But what Kens?" I feel like he should be pissed off at me for his brother's sake, but then it's never been like that with Jordan and I.

"I don't know yet. I just know that this is what I thought I wanted and now...now I'm not sure," I tell him honestly and I wait for him to say something, indicate that he's disappointed in me in some way, but he doesn't. Instead he does what any of the Staal brothers do when they don't know what to say or they don't want to say something, he goes silent and just puts his arms around me and says nothing at all.

* * *

I hate watching her with them. It's not just the red headed brother either, it's Jordan. They're both all touchy and possessive. I can understand Marc putting his hand on her thigh or holding her hand, because she's his, but every time Jordan catches me looking in her direction he puts one of his big gorilla paws on her and narrows his eyes at me, like a threat.

As if I'm going to do something in front of Marc. At least not if she doesn't show some sign that she wants me to and in all honesty she hasn't even looked at me since we got here. She's been sitting on that barstool beside Jordan since we walked in the place and apparently she only has eyes for the Staals.

"You're going to break that glass mon ami," Flower says softly and I look down to see my knuckles turning white as I clutch the rum and coke in my hand.

"There are other women in this club," Tanger points out, I suppose, trying to be helpful. There are, I guess. Just none as singularly hot as Kensey Thunder.

"She could at least acknowledge that I rocked her world," I mutter, staring at her profile. She's practically sitting in Marc's lap but she's laughing at something Jordan's said. She keeps touching his hand and giving him playful little slaps, I guess like you'd do with someone you know and are friends with but her fingers linger on the back of his hand and every time she shoves him or punches his arm, he grins like an idiot. "There's something going on there," I point out, downing the last of my rum and Coke and then reaching for Flower's untouched Crown and Seven.

"Ce que tu racontes?" Flower gives me that look and then looks at his now half empty glass and shakes his head. "They're friends. She's like...un de ses plus vieux amis."

"Girls and guys can't be friends, I should know," I grumble with a meaningful sidelong glance towards Tanger who rolls his eyes and gets that expression on his face, the one that says '_I'm going to give you that one, but only that one'. _"Her and the big red headed goon aren't 'just friends'," I put the rabbit eared emphasis around those words and raise my eyebrows at Flower but he just shakes his head again.

"You're just angry because il est évidemment meilleure au lit que tu es." The half smile he gives me tells me he knows I'm not going to find it funny but he's determined to try to make a joke anyway.

"No, he's mad because yet another woman recognized that he's not a long term choice." I close my eyes and tell myself that my first reaction is the wrong one, but even as I try and take a deep breath and tell myself to let it go, Tanger pours a little salt in the wound. "He's just pissed because he got used like a sex toy and then tossed aside for the old tried and true, n'est ce pas? Max?"

"Reprendre," I begin but Kris is already sliding out of the booth, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "You don't want a piece of this LeTang," I snort as I get up and shrug out of my jacket.

"I'm not afraid of you Talbot," he laughs and flexes his fingers at me in the universal sign for 'come get some'. The music doesn't stop, but a spot clears around us and no one speaks. Kris and I have been friends for years. I should have kicked his ass over Becky. I didn't, but I probably should have. He's had it coming, they probably know that.

"Either of you makes a move and you'll be on the first bus to Scranton, that's a promise." This time it isn't Sid that's uttering the ultimate threat to a professional hockey player. Sid caught the first train home, preferring his pregnant wife to being out on the town with the rest of us. No, this time it's Mario and like kids caught with their hands in the candy jar, Kris and I both hang our heads and grab our coats but not before I shoot him a look and mouth the word 'later' at him. He just rolls his eyes in response and slides back into the booth with Flower.

For myself, I think I'd better find better company for the night, but she's still at the bar in a Staal sandwich and when I head towards TK, Geno, Brooksy and a few of the other guys, they turn their back on me. I'm about to head out to find some other club when I feel a small hand on my arm.

"Where's the girl you two were fighting over? I'll kick her ass."

I look down to find a pair of emerald green cat's eyes looking up at me and recognize Kensey Thunder's side kick Daze. I admit to not really looking at her before, because, let's face it, next to Kensey she's kind of...homely, but up close, like this and looking down at her artfully ripped top to see most of her bare breasts clearly, I'm willing to have a second look.

"She's not here," I admit and she manages to actually look disappointed. Jordan's told me enough times that the whole hardcore Goth look is an act but on Daze with all her piercings and the dog collar around her neck, it sure as hell doesn't look like it's any kind of an act. "She's back in the 'Burgh."

"Did she break your heart?" she whispers conspiratorially, like we're friends and she really will kick her ass for me if I say yes.

"Yeah, I guess, maybe," I admit, unable not to smile when she scrunches up her cute little pixie nose with its smattering of freckles. She looks like a little kid, except for the pair of knockers peeking up at me through the rips in her shirt.

"Then she's a bitch and you should totally forget her," she says in a no nonsense tone, her pointed little chin held up as she meets my gaze in this challenging kind of way. She's got kid sister written all over her, down to the pig tails with their brilliantly coloured yarn bows. Despite the peek a boo boobies, she's definitely not the kind of chick I'd take back to the hotel to make myself feel better.

"Well I was kinda hoping your friend over there would help me some more but uh," I glance over to see her doing it again, laying her hand over Jordan's as she laughs, "...she seems kind of busy." It's an asshole move and I realize it the minute I say it and look back down at Daze whose face totally falls before she manages to get control over it and give me a defiant 'who cares' look.

"Yeah well, Kens is totally fucked up. I mean, in the head screwed up when it comes to that family. You're totally better off out of it, believe me." I want to ask her what she means but she lays her hand flat on my chest and smiles up at me. "Now, feel better and no more fighting, mmkay?" Before I even have a chance to answer her, she's disappeared into the crowd. I stare after her, half pissed that she didn't tell me what's up with the Staals and Kensey and half pissed that I've been a jerk again and that I made her feel bad but instead of going after her, I decide to take myself back to the hotel and jerk off to some porn like all the other lonely idiotic guys in the world do.

* * *

"You should stay with us tonight. C'mon Jordy. You don't want to go back to that hotel when we've got a perfectly good guest room." I tug on his hand, trying to make him come with us into the cab but he just stands there shaking his head.

"You're practically newlyweds. If you think I want to listen to your bedsprings creaking all night you've got another thing coming Kens," Jordy laughs and tries to peel my fingers off of his wrist.

"Oh c'mon, please, we hardly ever get to see you," I beg, putting my other hand over his and tugging again.

"Put him down Kens, the poor kid obviously wants to go pick up a last call desperate chick who might just be impressed by his sob story about not being able to play, dontcha little bro?" Marc laughs and put his hand on my wrist and pushes down to break my hold on Jordan's arm. I look at his bigger hand and then up at the forced smile on his face and want to scream.

"Yeah that's totally it," Jordan's smile disappears and suddenly it's on and the two brothers are facing on another over my head and suddenly I'm thirteen again, except this time there's no Jared to send running to get Eric to play peacemaker.

"Besides, it won't just be the bedsprings you'd be listening to," Marc leers at his brother with that expression I hate to see, the one that says '_no matter what you do, I win'_. "Kens is a real moaner, aren't you baby?"

"Stop it," I plead, turning to face Marc and using both hands to push him towards the taxi. "We had such a good time tonight, please don't ruin it."

"Oh I know she is, you forget, I was there first."

I freeze, shutting my eyes tight and doing my best Dorothy and her ruby slippers routine, whispering '_I wish I was home, I wish I was home'_ over and over again before tossing up my usual plea, '_please God don't let them kill one another.'_

"Well, you just hold onto that little nugget while you're in your hotel room, by yourself, while I'm home, making love to my fiancée." Marc's hand closes over my wrist and his other hand pushes me into the back of the cab. "Get in Kens."

I hear him giving the cabbie our street address as the cab pulls away from the curb, but my eyes are on Jordan, standing on the sidewalk, staring after me, his hands balled into fists as he watches us go.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"You chose me. Or don't you remember that?" He hadn't uttered a single syllable during the entire cab ride, but the minute we're back in our apartment, I find myself pressed against the back of the door, one hand pinned above my head, the other one Marc now presses to his chest, right over his heart which is currently beating like the thunder of hooves. "You said you never felt it, in _here_, for him." Pressing my hand flat to his chest, he holds it there while I listen to the bones in my hand being crushed into a fine powder.

"Marc you're hurting me," I whisper, looking at our clasped hands, at how small my hand looks in his, something I'd normally find comforting, that would normally make me feel safe but now makes me feel vulnerable. Cursing under his breath, he lets go of me all at once and turns and stomps to the centre of the room where he falls into the couch and mutters something under his breath that I don't need to hear to know that it isn't good. Rubbing my wrists, I look around the room for somewhere to sit that's not exactly right by him. Not because I'm scared of him. That's the largest display of temper I've ever seen out of Marc, I just don't really feel like sharing his space right now.

So I perch on the edge of one of the dark leather chairs that's ninety degrees from where he's sitting but when I reach for the remote, he makes a face and rolls his eyes.

"What?" I ask, trying my best to keep my voice even and calm. He is my redhead and though it might not be obvious to others, it's crystal clear to me when sparks are snapping at the end of every single flame coloured hair on his head.

"So we're not even going to talk about this?" he snarls, still staring straight ahead as he gnaws at the end of his thumb. Not a good sign. An even worse sign is the way one knee starts bounce up and down in quick, jerky movements; so not a good sign.

"I wish I knew what you're talking about," I reply, aiming the remote at the television again, only to have him pounce, jerking it from my hand and tossing it behind him. I listen to it skid across the hard wood floor and just for a moment I let myself wonder under which piece of furniture I'll have to go looking for it later. Yeah, it's a river and it's called denial, I know.

"Tonight...you and Jordan...," he gnashes his teeth as he leans into my personal space, his sea blue eyes blazing as he searches my expression for some sign that I know where he's going with this. For the record, I do, I just don't want to go there. Obviously aggravated by my silence, Marc pushes himself back up to his full, very intimidating height and holds his arms out at his sides and manages to look angry and helpless at the same time. "Fuck Kensey, you were flirting with him like some kind of puck fuck!" He stares at me, waiting for me to argue, and I have every intention of doing so, except I know that he's not done. Not when he gets that look on his face where his eyes are wide and he looks like he's just had his favourite hockey stick broken. I've seen that look, but usually it's aimed at Eric or Jared, hardly ever Jordan and never me. "You swore to me...you said it was just a summer thing, an experiment. You swore it meant nothing. You said _this_ meant everything to you, that _we_ meant everything...more than anything, more than the band." Exasperated he turns his back on me and I'm left curled in the chair, watching his enormous shoulders move up and down as he tries to force himself breathe slowly.

"Aside from Daze, you know Jordan is my best friend," I begin but that's the wrong answer, clearly.

"No, Kens, _I'm_ your best friend, or at least that's the way it's supposed to be," he cries, pivoting on his heel until he's facing me, leaning in again until his hot breath blasts my face, his big hands with their long fingers gripping the arms of the chair, making me scootch back in it until I feel like a cornered mouse. "Why are we getting married if you don't think that?" he adds, his aquamarine blue eyes searching mine for an answer to a question I've never even contemplated.

"You said you wouldn't make me choose," I whisper back at him, because I don't know how to answer him and because it's the only thing that's important to me and not because I want my cake and to eat it too but because I've never wanted this. I've never wanted to come in between any of the brothers. I know it's a battle I'll never win.

"And you promised me that what happened...you said it didn't mean anything Kensey...you said...," he closes his eyes and furrows his brow and then sinks to his knees in front of me, like letting the air out of one of those giant balloons in the Macy's Day Parade.

"We're always like that, you know that," I tell him, running my fingers through the fine strawberry blonde hair on his head like I've seen his mother do a thousand times. She calls it soothing the beast.

"Not like _that_, Kens," he says quietly, his forehead resting on my knee, his voice muffled but strained. "And he's never brought that up before," he adds, rolling his head to the side until he's looking up at me, hurt and fear in his eyes. "Why tonight? Why did that come up tonight?" I shake my head but I know that it's not answer enough as he shuts his eyes and sighs like I've disappointed him. "There has to be a reason Kens. We both know Jordan doesn't use his ammo unless he has a reason."

I nod but I don't give voice to the first answer that comes to mind, because I'd only been with two men, both Staals and I've never compared them. I wouldn't. It would be like comparing oil and water, chalk and cheese. But now I've been with three men and one of them is not his brother but his friend and somehow that's changed everything, for me, for him, for all of us.

"You know Jordan is a law unto himself. He gets in a bad mood and everybody pays," I whisper, brushing my fingers through his hair and doing my best to lie with my eyes. It's seems as if it's the lie Marc wants to hear or is at least willing to tolerate for the moment. The briefest shadow of a smile plays at the corner of his lips and he reaches for my other hand and laces his long fingers in mine.

"Maybe I'm jumping at shadows," he offers and I know when he says it that he doesn't believe it any more than I do but I smile encouragingly and let him pull my hand to his lips. "You still choose me, right?" he asks, sounding like the younger, less self assured Marc of the summer before he left for the Big Apple, worried about leaving me behind.

"You know I do," I reply and give him my very best 'ready for my close up' smile and it's enough.

"I'm sorry for losing it, for overreacting" he sighs, getting to his feet and pulling me up after him and into his arms. I let myself relax into him and the familiar feel of his long arms wrapping around me. "I just...I think I'd be lost without you."

"Yeah you would," I tell him and close my eyes and try to feel what I felt not so long ago, except those feelings don't come and I'm starting to wonder if they ever will.

* * *

"You're pacing. You know I hate it when you do that."

Tyler doesn't so much as glance away from the screen as he races through the channels, not stopping for more than a second or two at each one. Normally that would be reason enough for me to tackle him and take the clicker away but tonight I have other things on my mind, namely Kensey and why Jordy is pacing like a caged tiger.

"I'm worried about Kens," he mutters, turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction.

"And you think wearing a hole in the carpet is going to fix that?" TK asks, settling on MTV because Katy Perry is on and he has a thing for her. He figures if she's into a guy that looks like Russell Brand then he might have a chance.

"So why don't you call if you're that worried?" I ask but Jordan only shakes his head.

"Because if Marc answers...," he shrugs his broad shoulders and goes back to pacing. TK and I both watch him for a bit, because Katy's videos over now and we don't have to watch Coldplay to enjoy them.

"So there _is_ something going on with you two." Flower and Tanger both shoot me the kind of dirty look that says don't go there but I'm still pissed off that she didn't even give me so much of a glance. I have my pride.

"No." Gronk looks at me I've just said the stupidest thing in the world and out of the corner of my eye I catch Tanger giving me that 'told you so' look.

"Then what's with the wearing out the carpet thing?" I ask, ignoring the kick that TK aims at my leg. "Oh come on, you want to know too."

"Il n'a pas besoin de tu dire quoi que ce soit," Tanger hisses, not looking up from his blackberry. He's probably texting Becky about how I've been a prick all night. She'll give me a disapproving look the minute I pull into the driveway and maybe I'll deserve it, but if I'm going to get it then I decide I'm going to fucking earn it too.

"Did you fuck her?" The room goes silent, the kind of silence that makes everyone afraid to look you in the eye so everyone stares at the floor or the TV but not at me and definitely not at Jordan. But Jordan does look at me and he's wearing the kind of scowl that he usually only wears right before he rides someone head first into the stanchion beside the bench in an obvious attempt to send them to the dentist or better yet directly to emergency.

"What the fuck did you say?" TK clears his throat in an attempt to either distract the big blonde ape, which I'm guessing that while Ty is fairly brave and not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, or to suggest that I shut my big mouth, which is far more likely. Not to be deterred, I ask again.

"I asked if you fucked her, because that would explain why you're acting like a jealous boyfriend right now." Flower actually gasps. He really is the best of us. Well maybe Johnny too but then they're both whipped, so they have that in common.

"Ce qui ne va pas avec tu ce soir?" Flower hisses at me, looking imploringly at me from underneath his bangs like maybe if he looks directly at me he'll burst into flame or something.

"I just asked a question," I reply without taking my eyes off the cleft chinned boy wonder who stares daggers back at me. His silence speaks volumes. "It's kind of a simple yes or no thing."

"Max, don't," Tanger growls at me, but I really don't care about his opinion right now.

"Yeah Max, don't," Jordan repeats with no trace of his usual jovial nature. "I almost had a fight with my brother tonight. I really don't want to fight with you, but I will, if you keep pushing it."

"I'll take that as a yes," I sigh, sliding off of the bed. "Why'd you let me fuck her if you're in love with her?" I don't even wait for his answer. The pain is shining clearly in the big dolt's blue eyes. "And once again the great Max Talbot totally strikes out, thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week," I take my bow and then brush past him and head towards the door. "Call her you idiot. If you fucking give a shit then fucking fight for her. You can take your brother. Croyez-moi mon ami, if you don't you'll just end up a lonely loser like me."

* * *

I'm not asleep when my phone lights up and starts vibrating across my nightstand. With a glance toward the sleeping form beside me, I grab my phone and my robe and tip toe out of the bedroom.

It's a text from Jordan; simple and to the point: _R U OK?_ Pulling my robe on and leaning against the cool wall, I send him a simple reply: _I'M_ _FINE_. Not good, not great, just fine. Jordan and I know each other well enough that a few simple words say as much as a mouthful.

His reply comes back predictably quickly: _CAN I CALL?_ I may have a recording contract with Roadrunner but Jordan, at twenty two, is already a millionaire like his two older brothers. None of them will let me spend my money if they can spend their own. Shaking my head, I hit the speed dial that is his cell and head further into the apartment.

"You're okay? And I don't just mean you and Marc." No 'hello'. No 'how are you' are any of the rest of that pedestrian small talk. We don't need that. I can't remember the last time we did. "_Are_ you and Marc okay?" he asks before I even get a chance to address the first question, which is fine by me because I didn't really have an answer for it anyway and I completely ignore the query that I think I hear behind the question.

"For now," I reply, curling up on the end of the couch and pulling my robe closer around me. The floor is cold and so is the leather sofa. I pull a cozy dark blue and red Ranger's throw from the back of the couch and wrap myself up in it. "You probably shouldn't have thrown that in his face. That definitely didn't help." Jordan sighs on the other end of the line and I picture him grimacing, the way he does when he misses a shot or gets nothing but air on it.

"I was just pissed. I hate to see him treat you like that, like you're just a fucking piece of property," he says and I vaguely hear a thump in the background, a sound I recognize as a tennis ball hitting the wall. It's not only tennis players and Labrador Retrievers that use them and it's definitely no accident that professional athletes have excellent hand eye coordination. It's also something Jordan does when he's stressing over something.

"You know that was just an aberration though right? You know Marc is never like that." I know when I say it that Jordan's going to make that noise that's the caveman equivalent of '_I call bullshit on that'_ which makes me wonder if I sound like one of those battered women, defending her man to the limit of credibility.

"The boys know," he says suddenly and quickly, as if he's ripping off a band-aid, as though if he says it fast enough it won't scare me quite so much. I don't want to ask because I don't want to know the answer, but I feel like I have to as if, somehow, not having it confirmed would be worse.

"You told them...about us?" The utter lack of sound on the other end of the line is Jordan's version of trying to hide. My brain starts to throb in my skull. "Shit, Jordan."

"Well it was more like Max guessed," he added, tossing about half a shaker of salt into the wound. I dropped my forehead onto my knees and groaned. "I know. I mean...I didn't outright say it, you know? I didn't say yes or no but..."

"But you didn't exactly say no, did you?" I mumble, wishing very much that the couch will turn into a sinkhole that sends me tumbling toward the centre of the earth, never to be found again. "Well I guess the silver lining of that will be that Max probably won't want to sleep with me again," I add doing my best to turn lemons into lemonade.

"Yuck," Jordan laughs and I can almost see his grin from here. "Don't talk to me about that. I can't believe you even touched him."

"Oh but I had to listen to you go on and on about...what's her name? That girl who likes to put you in handcuffs?" I shudder as I think of the morning Max had posted a photo on Jordan's facebook wall of him handcuffed to a bed in a strange hotel room, his chest dotted with red candle wax.

"Trina." Jordy says her name in a way that makes me picture him shaking his head and laughing. "I haven't seen her in...well, I don't how long but it feels like forever," he explains light-heartedly, as if he hadn't told me how she'd turned down his offers to get serious, to be exclusive over and over again.

"Oh." It's all I can come up with and I cringe as I realize how happy it sounds when I say it. "Oh well, now you can get out there and go bunny hunting with Max and TK," I suggest only to have Jordy snigger at my suggestion.

"No thanks," he replies with a sigh. "If I do anything I think I'll just...I think I might stay single for a while." I want to tell him not to, that he's a great catch and that there's someone out there for him, give him the whole plenty of fish in the sea speech but the creak of a floorboard somewhere behind me makes my heart leap into my throat.

"I've...I have to go back to bed and you should get some sleep too," I tell him hastily.

"Yeah, I'm actually tired but I wanted to check on you. You sure you're okay, that everything's okay?" he asks and I can now hear footsteps behind me.

"Yeah, all good, totally good. Okay, so, get some rest, talk to you later, luv ya bye bye." I snap my phone shut just in time to feel Marc's hands on my shoulders. He digs them into my Trapezius muscles and I close my eyes and let out a groan.

"Who was that?" he asks, his voice a low rumble in my ear before he presses his lips to my cheek.

"Oh, just Daze," I lie and then wonder why I did. "I guess we left her at the club without saying goodbye," I add and I know it's true because she texted me a while ago to say so. Somehow it makes me feel better to have been truthful about something.

"Daze can look after herself," he says simply as he digs his long fingers into my shoulders.

"She's our friend Marc. It's not nice to just take off on her," I mumble, hanging my head forward so that he doesn't see how I cringe every time something comes out of my mouth. It's like I can't stop myself from picking a fight with him.

"Are you saying she didn't go back to the hotel with the Pens boys to continue the party?" he asks, sounding amused. I frown. It's like he doesn't know Daisy at all.

"No, she didn't and she wouldn't." I know what she looks like but I also know her heart and how closely she guards it and the morals and values she has; the ones we used to share. I'm not so sure about my soul anymore. "I'm sorry...I'm tired...I don't mean to be so bitchy," I apologize, putting my hand over his. I feel his fingers curl around mine and I automatically feel better. Leaning back I look up into his blue eyes and reach up with my other hand to trace the sharp line of his strong jaw. "Take me to bed and hold me?"

"I'll do more than that," he promises with a playful grin as he offers me a hand up. I almost say something about preferring ice cream but instead I keep my mouth shut, smile and let him take me to bed


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

(lyrics borrowed from 'Honestly" by Dommin

All about Dommin: .com/music/Dommin)

_Honestly, I never thought I'd lose myself so deep inside you  
I gotta breathe  
And I need to burn in love; it's something more tha__n I've been feeling from you  
I gotta leave…Honestly_

_And I'm looking at myself  
Feeling the cancer. Living in need  
And I know there's nothing left  
There are no answers, and no in-between _

"Holy shit when did you get so damn dark and broody?" Duncan asks as I finish playing the song for him on the piano. "Who are you and what 'ave you done with our Kensey?"

"It's all that fucking black the label has her and Daze wearing," Johnny T laughs, reaching for his water bottle and draining it before picking up his bass. "But it's got that whole fucked up girl done wrong vibe that might just work." I watch him arrange his fingers on the frets and the next thing I know he and Duncan are picking out chords and even though I've seen them do it hundreds of times, it's still a miraculous thing to watch.

"What _is_ up with you?" Daze asks, her pointed chin digging into my shoulder as she watches our band mates work out the melody. "You and Big Red still not getting along?"

"We're okay." It isn't a lie. It's just not the entire truth.

"Yeah, 'cuz _those_ lyrics don't scream trouble in paradise," Daze snorts in my ear and then uses my shoulders and head as a drum kit before she swings down and arranges herself on the floor at my feet. "Spill it sister." I look down into her cat-like green eyes, and I know it's no good lying to her, if I do she'll only call me on it and then play twenty questions until she either figures it out or I give up and tell her.

"Alright, fine, if you must know, it's Jordy," I sigh and then am forced to watch while Daze's eyes roll back in her head while she clutches her stomach and groans.

"Oh god, don't tell me. What has the big dunce done now?"

"And you wonder why I haven't told you," I reply, waiting for her to stop rolling around on her back like she's been gut shot.

"Okay, okay," she mumbles, sitting back up, picking up her drum sticks and banging out some kind of pattern on the floor. It's her version of listening. It took her parents a long time to get used to it. It got her sent to the principal's office more than once.

"He tossed it up in Marc's face." I wait while she deciphers what I'm not saying and then I wait while she makes several faces while she tries not to laugh. "Thanks Daze," I grumble, turning back to the piano on which I start to pound out chopsticks to drown out the sound of her snorting through her nose. It would be better if she just laughed out loud.

"I told you that would bite you in the ass!" she snickers at last, using my thigh, painfully, as a cymbal. "But noooo, you had to lose your v-card before you went to college when Ginger Staal was at…what was that, World Juniors or something?"

"You make it sound sordid," I hiss, glancing over at Duncan because as much as he's been my friend since middle school he doesn't know about this and he wouldn't be happy if he did, especially after offering to be the one to take on that particular responsibility.

"Sleeping with your best friend _is_ kinda sleazy," she grins at which point I stop playing chopsticks and start banging my head against the keys. "Oh okay, okay. Why did the big dumb geek throw that particular curve ball at his barely older brother?"

"He said we were flirting, the other night at the bar." I explain and expect that she'll be as outraged as I was at the time but she just sits there and stares back at me like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop. "No, see, this is the part where you're supposed to say that Marc is out of his mind and Jordan and I have always just been friends and nothing more."

"Ummmm well I would if that weren't just about the biggest pile of bullshit ever," Daze laughs but quickly sobers when I don't laugh with her. "Oh c'mon…Jordan's been in love with you since we were five."

"What? No…no, wait…what?" I stare at her and she just keeps staring back at me like she's expecting me to say something else but nothing else will come out of my mouth.

"Oh god…Kens…I thought you knew."

* * *

"Awww, you're gonna miss me." His arms wrap around my waist and his lips press softly against the curve of my neck. I close my eyes and lean back against the width of his chest.

"I always do," I promise, laying my arms along his, but my words feel empty. I've been on pins and needles all morning, watching him pack like I have a hundred times before but this time it's like I can't wait for him to be gone.

"But this time you won't be waiting for me when I get back," he adds, his breath warm against my cheek. "Your first tour. Are you worried?" Not excited, worried. That's what he says to me.

"It's _not_ our first tour," I remind him quietly, peeling his hands away from my stomach and stepping out of the circle of his arms. I glance at his bags waiting silently for him by the door and anxiously wish that he'd join them.

"Yeah but you've only played clubs and bars, not real venues where people have actually paid to see you," he prompts, a fact that does make my gut twist with apprehension.

"I'll be great," I tell him, sounding more confident than I feel.

"I'm sure you will babe," he tells me, finally sounding supportive, for once. "But if you have an off night, just remember we all have them." Narrowing my eyes at him I grind my teeth together. I know he's just being Marc, that he's just being logical and realistic, both traits that drew me to him once upon a time but right now when I want enthusiastic no holds barred encouragement, logical isn't cutting it.

"I wish you would just be happy for me," I reply quietly, using every last ounce of resolve I have not to pick a fight with him right before he leaves. I know if we fight now, it won't end well, for either of us. I just need to get some space and some room to clear my head and then everything will be fine, it will all go back to normal. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

"You know I'm proud of you," he smiles and reaches to cup my cheek in his hand, making me look up into his sea blue eyes. "I just don't want you to be too disappointed if you're not as big as Beiber in a month or so," he adds with a sly grin that's meant to tell me he's kidding but there's something in his eyes that says maybe he's not, or maybe that's just me reading things into it that aren't really there.

"Don't worry," I smile up at him as I lean into his hand, "I don't think my haircut is going to catch on like his has."

"Thank goodness for that," he laughs and then presses his lips lightly against mine. He tastes like mint and as my lips open beneath his, the sting of the mouthwash he's just used makes my tongue tingle. Slipping my arms around his back, I let myself relax into him. I'm just nervous about the tour and still jangled from what Daze let slip last night. It isn't his fault. I shouldn't be taking it out on him. "I just don't want you to be disappointed if it doesn't turn out as big as you're imagining it." And just like that, I'm back to gnashing my teeth and pushing him away.

"Why? Why do you always belittle this?" I demand, turning away from him so he won't see the tears glimmering in my eyes that I immediately try to brush away.

"I'm not. You know I'm not doing that. It's just like when Jordy got to play up in the show before I did. I just want you to be prepared for anything," he says as his hands slide down my arms, holding me tight as he presses a familial kiss to the top of my head.

"Why do you assume the worst?" I ask in this little voice that sounds nothing like me. This is when I need to channel Kensey Thunder but as much as I reach for her the only thing I feel is good 'ol Kensey Connor, the pig tailed tomboy who, ever since the scourge of adolescence sent a tidal wave of hormones coursing through my veins and made me fall in love with all four of the Staal brothers.

"I'm just practical, you know that Kens," he whispers, kissing my cheek.

"Yeah…yeah, I _do_ know that," I sigh, looking down at the giant sparkler on my hand.

Like it's happening in slow motion, as if I'm watching someone else do it, I watch as my hand shakes as I slide the ring off of my finger. I look down at it sitting in the centre of my palm and then I curl my hand closed around it.

"Kens?" he whispers as I turn around to face him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not sure," I reply honestly, my entire body shaking as I reach for his hand.

"Don't do this," he hisses, trying to pull his hand back as I hold my hand, still closed around the ring above his.

"I think I have to," I sob, opening my hand and dropping the ring into his hand. I stare at the diamond ring, looking so tiny in the palm of his hand and though I want to, I can't look up at him. Instead, I walk around him and go down the hall to our bedroom and close the door behind me and then I stand there and listen to the overwhelming silence that seems to go on forever and until at last, after a long time, I hear the sound of the front door closing and only then do I allow myself to cry.


	6. Chapter 6

_as always thanks for your patience while I got thru the Holiday Season (or the worst of it anyways ; ) I promise that there will be some action soon!_

**Chapter 6**

My parents say nothing when my taxi pulls up in front of their house. My dad takes my bag and walks silently behind me up to the house. My mom just smiles in that tight sort of way that said lets me know that she knows something is wrong but isn't going to ask. They both just watch me climb up to my room and I can feel them watching me as I turn the corner of the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister and I know I'm going to have to tell them, eventually, just not yet.

As soon as I open the door to my room, to the lilac walls and the deep purple bedspread, it feels like a mistake and I find myself half in and half out of the room, afraid of stepping into the past. It feels like I'm walking into the scene of the crime.

This is where it happened, one summer night, one of those nights when it was too hot to sleep when the parents were all somewhere else, a block party, barn dance, something like that, somewhere we were supposed to be.

As I stand there, in the darkened room, I can see us both sitting cross legged on my bed talking like friends do and I can feel the sticky heat in the air even though there's snow on the ground outside and the sky is grey with the threat of more of the white stuff. It had been one of those nights when a tank top had seemed like too much. I'd understood when Jordan had wanted to peel off his t-shirt. Looking back on it now, his underdeveloped but tanned teenage boy chest probably wasn't anything to write home about but to a teenage girl whose hormones were all over the place, whose brain was probably a little addled by the heat and whose boyfriend was off at some hockey camp in L.A. making a name for himself, it was breathtaking.

I find my hand reaching out to touch air, the way my hand had instinctively reached out to touch his smooth skin that night. I can still remember how warm he was, sticky with the heat, his adolescent temperature running almost feverishly hot.

Truth be told, it was always Jordan. Oh I'd idol worshipped Eric first and I know if I asked my mother could pull out photo albums to prove how a little pigtailed girl barely out of diapers had followed the freckle faced oldest Staal boy around with wide eyed astonishment. But that hadn't even been puppy love. That had just been, well, whatever it is that makes little girls look up to blue eyed boys. But from the time we'd sat together in mud puddles and teamed up to make snow forts, it had always been Jordan but something in me, something in my brain had told me that as much as he'd always have my heart, Jordy was the wild boy who couldn't, wouldn't be tied down.

And so I'd settled for my red haired Staal boy. Marc was a little older, a little steadier and a lot more serious. Marc didn't laugh with the other girls and make me feel jealous. Marc didn't treat me like one of his brothers the way Jordy did, like I didn't have feelings, like whatever he did or said would just be forgiven and forgotten the way boys do.

Marc had been surprised when I'd kissed him and asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance. I can still see the shock on his face, the colour of his cheeks matching his hair as I'd slid my hand into his bigger one. He hadn't known then that I'd been making a choice.

He did when he came back from hockey camp out in the land of Hollywood starlettes to find a strange new tension in the room, to find Jordan and I carefully but intentionally avoiding each other. It had taken every ounce of courage I had to tell him that I'd given something to his younger sibling that I'd been making him wait for. I can still remember the pain and resentment in his eyes I'd admitted that one hot, sticky night while he'd been missing me I'd laid down in this room, in this bed, with Jordan and shared that special moment with him.

I'd felt guilty then and I still do, standing at the end of my bed remembering how it had started so innocently with just the brush of my fingertips down his washboard stomach and ended up with sweat slicked bodies carefully, slowly joining as Jordan anxiously asked, over and over, if I was okay and how much did it hurt.

I can't remember if I'd consciously been that desperate to lose it. I clearly remember all of the times, out in the middle one of his father's fields on a blanket, how close Marc and I had come and every single time it had been me that had put a stop to it. Something hadn't felt right. I'd convinced myself that I wanted the things I'd heard other girls talking about, candlelight or maybe a motel room. None of those things had mattered with Jordan and to this very moment, I still can't say exactly why.

But as I sit on the foot of my bed and run my hand over the slightly thread bare quilt what I remember most is the look of wonder on Jordan's face as he held me afterwards. I'd always just thought he was happy that he'd done 'it'. Now…well, now everything is different.

* * *

"No man, I swear. I didn't talk to her yesterday at all."

"What's that about?" Sid asks in a whisper as he glances over at where Jordan's pacing in the hallway on his phone. Shaking my head I shrug.

"I just know it's Marc," I reply, going back to pulling on my socks. Sid watches our teammate pace up and down the hall with narrowed eyes. Jordy should know better than to do something different anywhere near our superstitious captain, especially when he's on a hot streak.

"So what's Tabby thinking of the 'stache now?" I ask, changing the subject and bringing Si''s attention back to getting ready for the game.

"She's hating it," he chuckles, running his fingers across the thickest growth I've ever seen the kid get. "She doesn't want the streak to end, but she hates it," he adds with a grin.

"But you're not sleeping on the couch?" I ask and he actually snorts before losing himself in a fit of giggles.

"Well yeah but only because she's taking up the whole bed right now what with swollen ankles and man…she has like…the worst gas ever," he adds, making a face. I know he's not really complaining. I don't think I've ever seen a guy so twisted around a woman's finger as Sid is around Tabby's.

"She's got to be ready to pop," Tanger sticks his oar in and for once I don't feel like ramming my fist down his throat for doing it. I must be getting over that whole thing.

"Overdue in fact," Sid sighs, pulling on his skate, his smile disappearing all of a sudden. "So it could be any time. Doc says if she hasn't gone into labor by Friday she's got to get induced but…well you know Tabs can be pretty fucking stubborn."

"Yeah, yeah, stubborn, right." I don't mean to be rude and Tabs and Sid are good friends but this girl's appeared in the hall and I watch her poke Gronk who's still pacing and arguing with his brother and I have this feeling I've seen her before but I just can't stop looking at her, especially her cute little bootie all packed into this pair of cut-offs over ripped black tights with these crazy pink and purple striped knee high socks. It's kind of a crazy look, and one we don't see with the puck fucks who wait around in the halls of arena for us. But then the way she's staring daggers at Gronk, I'm guessing that's not exactly who she is. "Who is that?" I'm mostly talking to myself but Sid and Tanger both crane their necks to follow my gaze and then both of them laugh.

"That's your girlfriend…oh no wait, sorry, _Jordy's_ brother's girlfriend's drummer," Tanger points out, thinking he's amusing, obviously. I do shoot him a dirty look this time but my attention is quickly drawn back to the hallway where Jordy's suddenly looking perplexed by the fact that the little bundle of energy has his phone and he doesn't.

"Daze, yeah," I mumble her name and it makes me smile. Funny, I've looked at tons of pictures of her, even talked to her and never thought anything about her until right this minute, maybe because she suddenly isn't just in Kensey's shadow.

I find myself on my feet, walking towards them like I'm being tugged by some invisible rope and I'm helpless to do anything else, even though I know I'm about to walk into some sort of private conversation which is something, as a teammate, I should try not to do.

"Why did you tell her?" Jordy is groaning, looking like a kicked puppy: a giant, Marmaduke type of puppy.

"Why didn't you?" she asks, his phone still in her outstretched hand. "We have to go on tour in a few days Jordan. Call her…fix it." She tries to force his phone back into his hand but he just looks down at it like she's holding out a handful of squirming snakes instead of a normally blackberry.

"I can't," he mutters, still staring down at the phone like it might bite him.

"She broke it off with him for a reason Jordan, think about it," she's insisting but the big doof is shaking his head and I really want to ask if they're talking about what I think they're talking about but I stay just out of their sight lines, trying not to interrupt. "Call her Jordan, before she has time to talk herself into going back to him, again." The big galoot stares down at the phone as she takes his hand and forcibly puts it in his hand and closes his fingers around it. "Do it for both of you. Fuck Jordan. Do you love her or not?" He looks at her and then down at his hand and then wanders off and I'm left watching her watch him and something in the way she watches him makes me wonder….

"Are you sure you didn't want him to say that to you?" I ask out loud and her partly exasperated and partly worried expression suddenly changes into a crooked smile.

"I haven't got the Staal sickness," she says, still watching him shuffle down the hallway. "I had the Pyatt sickness once upon a time," she adds, turning to me and giving me a long look from my feet all the way up to my eyes. "I'm beginning to lose faith in hockey players altogether though," she adds with a raised eyebrow that leaves me with my mouth hanging open, knowing I've been challenged and that for the first time in a long time, I actually want to rise to that challenge. Tilting her head to one side, Daze smiles at me and as she walks forward towards me and then this predatory look comes over her face that makes me want to follow her anywhere. "I kind of hate New Jersey," she whispers, pulling a card from her jean pocket and sliding it just inside the waist band of my under armor leggings. "So if you're over yourself…find me." I shiver as she walks her fingers up my chest and then slaps my cheek before she turns on her heel and leaves me there, watching her go.

"Does this mean you're over Becky?" Dupers whispers in my ear and then laughs as he walks by me into the room. I'd answer him…if I could talk.

* * *

I learned to skate pretty early, not long after I could walk. It was necessary, to keep up with the boys. Not that they let me play, exactly. I could use my ski jacket to try and deflect pucks, because none of us had any goalie gear. We didn't want to be goalies. We wanted to be Wayne Gretzky or Mario Lemieux, not Patrick Roy and it was catching and deflecting pucks or standing in the snow, freezing.

Other girls could do shiver in their pink gloves and scarves. Not me.

I never had figure skates either. Only hockey skates.

I guess that's changed. Sitting on the edge of a frozen snow bank, I pull on a pair of my mother's old figure skates and tug on the laces. I came here to clear my head. I'm hoping the cold and a few turns out on the pond will help to do just that.

The sound of a skate blade cutting through fresh ice has always been a soothing sound for me. The moment I push off, the moment I begin to glide, I feel better. I love music but just like the boys, ice runs in my veins. I feel at home here with the cold air nipping at my nose and the wind grabbing at my hair but this too brings back all kinds of memories.

This is where Tom Pyatt kissed Daisy. She laughed and laughed and his whole face turned red. He thought he'd done something wrong. She laughed because she was nervous. She'd had a crush on big, quiet Taylor but he'd only ever had eyes for Carly. Thinking of her makes my chest ache, makes me wonder what he's doing now, how he is.

This is also the place that Marc kissed me in front of anyone else for the first time. It had felt warm and soft and good, like a brownie right out of the oven. I'd felt warm, right to the core, until Eric had laughed and then I couldn't get out of my skates fast enough. I'd gone running home, mad, hurt and embarrassed.

Eric and Marc had fought. I think Daze told me that. Jordan had made them break it up.

We'd never talked about it. Jordan and I. He'd left that night, snuck out of my parents house, down the tree outside of my window. I'd worried he'd break something, but as worried as I was, I couldn't stop smiling at him as I watched him climb down the tree. He'd waved. He'd even blown me a kiss. I thought it was going to be me and him after that, but then I'd woken up in the morning and remembered that he was dating Kathy MacIntosh, who was just about the prettiest girl in school.

He was holding her hand at the lake the next day. I thought my heart might actually break. I blew it off. I pretended like it didn't matter, even when he tried to apologize, to explain. I just smiled and smiled and told myself it didn't matter.

It did matter. It always has.

"God I'm a bitch," I snarl at myself, stopping dead in the middle of the pond. I should never have made Marc my second choice. It wasn't fair. It was mean, evil, cruel. "But I do love him," I tell myself, "he's good to me." I push off, gliding across the snow covered ice, thinking about his long arms and how safe I feel when he holds me. "You broke his heart though, you know that right?" I add with a grim smile, wrapping my arms around my middle. "You just fucked up the only good thing that's ever happened to you," I add bitterly. "Way to Kensey Connor. Way to go."

* * *

"Will he call, do you think?" I sit across the aisle from Sid but we're all watching Jordan, who's apparently been staring at his phone for hours. Geno sat beside him on the bikes and watched him stare at his phone, like he was waiting for it to ring. It didn't. At least that's what Geno said.

"So, he's in love with his brother's fiancée?" Sid hisses, his phone still in his hand, watching it, waiting for it to ring.

"I don't know," I reply honestly. "I think that's what I heard but…what do I know?" I reply, shrugging and thinking of Kensey's band mate. She'd know, not that I should ask. It's none of my business.

"So are you going to ask her out?"

"Huh?" I turn to stare at Tanger and he raises his eyebrow at me.

"Allez vous lui demander de sortir?" he says more slowly, like I'm stupid.

"Who?" I ask, because I am.

"Daze," Sid says without looking up from staring at his phone. "He's asking if you're going to ask out Kensey's friend. The one who was grilling Gronk."

"Je pourrais," I grin, fingering her card in my pocket. "Je viens peut le faire."

"She's cute," he adds, like I have to be told. I have eyes.

"Why don't you phone Becky and leave me alone?" I growl back at him and he rolls his dark eyes and then puts his headphones back on. Shaking my head, I think about calling her, asking her to meet me at our hotel. I'm still trying to figure out how I managed to miss that when I met her before. "She is cute, right?" I ask and Sid nods.

"Yeah, totally, in a baby Goth kind of way," he replies, grinning suddenly as a text appears on his phone. "Airport. Turn this bitch around and get me to the airport!" he yells and heads for the front of the bus and the driver.

So much for finding out if she'd meet me at the hotel.


	7. Chapter 7

_Happy New Year and can I just say that the whole Pens/Caps 24/7 thing made me fall even harder for my boys and I'm so glad Jordy's back_

_2nd note, trying to give Jordan a voice through Max in this story was giving me a headache so I apologize if it's jarring or confusing at all to add a 3rd voice to this story at this time but I just had to do it. _

_so without further ado..._

**Chapter 7**

"Chickita, we were beginning to wonder if you were ever going to show!" As if there was any doubt, the first person to greet me is Daze. She comes bounding off the stage like a Labrador puppy and throws herself at me, nearly knocking me over when she throws her arms around me. "Between you and me Duncs was about to call out the cavalry, if you know what I mean," she adds in a stage whisper, glancing meaningfully over her shoulder at our band mate who is currently giving me that look that says he doesn't appreciate my not keeping in touch.

"I know, I know," I sigh, shrugging, because I don't have a good explanation. "I just needed to clear my head but I'm here now." Dunc nods and goes back to taping wires to the floor of the stage. The life of the opening band, no roadies for us.

"So…what epiphany did all of this head clearing lead you to?" Daze asks, slipping her arm into mine and leading me back behind the stage. I watch Cristina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil walk by us and I pause, mid step, to watch her walk by. I'd be happy to be that famous and I know damn well a lot of the cities we're going to go to won't know how fucking cool she is.

"I don't know…I don't think I've come to any conclusion other than I may have totally fucked up my life by breaking up with Marc," I sigh, following Daze into a cramped room that we're obviously all sharing, where a black, latex cat suit is hanging on the back of the door, obviously waiting for me.

"So you two haven't talked since? You didn't cave and call him?" Daze asks, jumping up and sitting cross legged on the make-up table in her cut offs and black tank top. I shake my head, push my overnight bag into a corner and toss my leather jacket on top of it. "And you haven't called Jordy either?" she asks in a totally different tone that tells me that she full expects that I would have.

"Why would I?" I grumble, struggling out of my jeans and then kicking them into the corner, followed by my sweater.

"Because you two are like madly in love with each other?" Daze gives me this impish, expectant smile.

"Because you two are like _madly_ _in love_ with each other?" Daze gives me this impish, expectant look but I just stare back at her and because we've known each other forever, I don't have to say it out loud. "Okay, well, at least he's madly in love with you."

"He's not," I reply firmly but Daze just rolls her eyes.

"I'm pretty sure he has been since he was like five," she tells me in this '_I'm not going to let you argue with me' _voice.

"Yeah and that's why he dated like half of Thunder Bay," I point out, dusting my legs with baby powder before even attempting to get into the skin tight latex cat suit.

"Because you were dating his brother?" she says, pointing out the obvious. "Because you chose his brother over him? Because you told him that he was always going to be an irresponsible party boy and that you weren't going to wait around and watch him fuck everything that moves." I shut my eyes against the barb that Daze digs into my ribs. I know what I said. I remember saying it too, the same night of the dance that I spent the night dancing with Marc. I remember standing under the bleachers while Marc was being high fived by all of our friends. I remember Jordan asking why, why Marc, why now?

"And I was right, wasn't I?" I reply quietly, even though knowing it doesn't make it feel any better. It didn't then. I'm not sure why it would now.

* * *

"He's sure cute," I tell Johnny as he puts his brand new son in the bassinette, his hand resting on top of the warm squirmy bundle of joy.

"He should be, have you seen me?" Brent replies and waits for me to argue. I don't. Not because I think he's cute, after all I've been playing alongside Sidney fucking Crosby, listening to girls scream at him like they're losing their minds. I don't argue because my head is all over the place and I don't have my usual witty banter going. "Whoa…earth to Gronk…what's up bud?"

"I just…I have this sort of…problem." I'm half listening to the all the women downstairs and half listening to all of the shit in my head that keeps swirling and swirling around.

"Well if it hurts when you pee, you should probably see the doc," Brent laughs at his own joke. I don't. If I'd wanted that kind of reaction I would have gone to Max and not the oldest guy on our team. He seems to realize it as he puts one hand on my shoulder as we both stare down at his son who is currently sucking on one of his toes. "Alright, obviously this is something heavy. Spill."

"It's my brother's fiancée…well she was or…is his girlfriend…I'm not sure," I begin, and that's just part of what has my head spinning.

"Your little Goth girl, yeah, I think I heard something about this. So what's going on that has you moping around like someone's just taken your soother?" I sigh and open my mouth to begin but close it again. I don't know where to start. Every time I go over it in my head the whole mess seems to start somewhere else. "Take it easy there Gronk…you're not gonna cry are you?" I shake my head but I'm actually not sure. The more I think about this whole mess, or at least the more I think about how it's really all my stupid fault, the more I think I might.

"I think I'm in love with her," I admit finally, in this quiet voice 'cuz I'm half afraid if I say it too loud someone will hear me. "I could start from the beginning but…I guess that's what it really boils down to. She's my brother's girl…or was but…but I saw her first."

"Oh man…that's a fuckin' doozy," Brent rubs at his head and then moves around the crib so he can look at me, leaning against the wall with his arms across his big barrel of a chest. "Does she know? I mean, did you tell her and piss your brother off or something?"

"Nah, nothin' like that," I sigh again, shrugging my shoulders. "I mean…I think he kinda knows…maybe he's known the whole time. I'm not sure but Kens…nah…I'm pretty sure that she still thinks of me just like she always has, just one of her big dumb brothers." That makes Johnny smile and I can tell he wants to say something smart about it, like maybe 'yeah you are dumb' but I'm grateful when he doesn't. This is fucking hard enough. "But she broke up with him…or at least she gave him the ring back and…Daze…she's Kensey's like…best friend in just about the entire world, she says that I should tell Kens which makes me think maybe I could be wrong about that but…." This is the hard part. Not that admitting that maybe I've been in love with my best friend isn't super hard but this part…. "I don't know. Do you think maybe she could be? I mean, that she could…y'know…like me too?" I looked at Johnny as he scratched his head and then shrugged his big shoulders.

"I don't know man. To be honest…I've only seen the girl in pictures and shit. You're the one who's known her your whole life. What vibe are you getting off of her?" I felt crestfallen. I'd really hoped that the elder statesman of the team would have some kind of mad sage advice for me.

"I don't know…I'm not good at picking up on that shit," I sigh, turning my attention back to his little boy in his powder blue onesie, his thumb now stuck right in his mouth, his eyes closed, sucking away. I wish I was that innocent again.

"You Gronk? You and Max are like my fucking heroes. You're the masters of picking up chicks. What do you mean you don't know what vibe you get from her?" I heave a sigh and shrug my shoulders.

"Picking up chicks around the 'Burgh is easy man. I don't have to do anything but smile and buy them a drink. Hell, half the time not even that. Kens…man…she's different. We're like…we're friends you know? I don't know how to tell if she'd ever felt more than that. I know there's been lots of times I wish…," my voice trails off as Johnny's woman slips into the room and, with a quick glance in the bassinette, slides up to her man and under his arm. I watch them kiss. The kiss says all kinds of things. It says 'hello' and 'where have you been' and 'when are you coming back'. They look comfortable and happy and they've got that not having to speak and know what the other is thinking thing.

Sometimes I think I have that with Kens.

Sometimes I don't, like now.

"So what was this I heard about Jordy picking up girls?" Mel asks, giving me that half disapproving half indulgent looks that all the Wags seem to. Or at least they do after they get to know me and don't think I'm a total douchebag, like Max.

"Not girls," Brent presses his lips softly to the top of her head, "just one girl." Mel narrows her eyes at me and then shakes her head.

"Nope, can't see it," she says and then laughs. "I can't see Jordy or Max being tied down. It would be like putting a wolf in a cage. It's just cruel."

"What if I want to be tied down?" I tell her and she rolls her dark eyes at me.

"Yeah, does this have anything to do with how you scared Trin away with all that being exclusive talk ?" she asks, tipping her head to one side and watching me in that way that women do when they get to be mothers. Like they're measuring me or like they can see right through me.

"She was the one who didn't want to be exclusive, not me," I remind her quietly. Not because that particular wound still hurts. Not anymore. Not since Kens gave Marc back the ring.

"I still think it would be like cutting an eagle's wing," Mel shrugs and buries her face in Johnny's chest and breathes him in like he's some kind of scented candle.

"You didn't say that about Tanger," Brent reminds her and she sighs, this sort of happy, contented little sound and then turns her face up to his.

"Tanger isn't an alley cat, like Jordy and Max are," she tells him, like I'm not even in the room. "Like right now, how Max isn't here, or hadn't you noticed?" she adds with a secretive sort of grin.

"Yeah," I mumble, realizing that I hadn't seen him yet. "Where is Talbo?"

"At some metal concert in…Phillie I think," Brent replies, looking down at Mel for confirmation. She nods and then looks over her shoulder at me.

"He said something about not wanting you to cock block him this time," she adds with that wicked little smile she gets when she's causing trouble. Sometimes I feel sorry for Johnny…sometimes.

It takes a minute, and then it's literally like a light bulb goes on over my stupid head.

"Oh shit…Thunder Daze is playing…that fucker!" I don't even say goodbye. I'm half way down the hall when I hear Mel call something after me like I'm going to miss dinner. I don't even reply. It's one of the time having that long legs seemed to be a good thing. I'm half way out the door before I even remember that I should have stopped to print out a ticket or something.

* * *

"A hun spot. C'mon, let me in," I grin up at the big…no, fucking huge bouncer at the door to the rear of the stage. He looks down at the bill I'm holding and then at me and then shakes his head and returns to staring straight ahead. "Two? Seriously man?" I dig in my wallet and think this guy has a really good fucking job as I pull out another two fifties and try to hand them to him.

"I'm not letting you in to see Miss Scabia," he snarls, like he really is part grizzly bear. I stare up at him and think he reminds me a little of Boogard the Boogey Man, and I don't really wanna mess with him but….

"You mean the Italian chick, the singer for the band that's on now?" I ask, glancing behind me to where I can still hear the band that most of the people are here to see. "Yeah, I guess she's cute or whatever but a bit old for me don't you think?" I ask and then the big, bald Samoan turns his attention to me and his whole bald head wrinkles as he narrows his eyes and frowns. "Oh she's your type. Okay, well, you know, it's a good thing not all of us have the same taste, wouldn't you say?" He just stares at me and then rolls his big dark eyes and goes back to staring over my head. I want to say 'don't you know who I am' but I've gotten out of that habit being around Sid. He really hates it when one of us pulls that shit. I'm not above using it though, if I have to. I'm not there…yet. "Look I just want to see the first band. You know? The Canadian one, Thunder Daze. You know them?" I ask, hopefully, but Shrek keeps staring straight ahead. "You know, the girl drummer and that total hot babe in the black cat suit, huh?" I grin up at him and watch as just the faintest glimmer of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, you saw her too huh? Total fox am I right?" He doesn't answer but he's smiling now. "Hey man, I know them. If you tell them I'm here, they'll total see me and I'll introduce you man, I swear." I cross my fingers behind my back, but it seems there's no need. The big guy finally chuckles and pushes the door open for me. I try to give him the money again but he just laughs and shakes his head.

"If that little drummer girl kicks your ass, I'll know you lied to me," he snorts and then I hear the door swing closed behind me.

He might have a point there. Considering I didn't show up to meet her at the hotel. It was for a good cause. We got Sid to the hospital just in time to see baby Gabby born. He's been grinning like an idiot ever since, which might have something to do with his point streak….

"Fuckin' A!" The silence in the dim hallway is broken by a sudden cascade of 'hell yeahs' and other sounds that remind me of our room when we win a game. I turn the corner to find the objects of my affection upending bottles of Krug Rosé. Kensey still takes my breath away, especially in that skin tight black latex body suit. There's no doubt she's fucking hot but as soon as I get my breath back, my attention is immediately caught by the more compact redhead, now stripped down to a black bra and cut off jeans that barely cover her ass.

My mouth goes dry. How I never saw her before, really saw her, is beyond me.

"You!" The champagne bottle pops out of her full lips and she points it at me. "You never showed!"

"In my defense, we had a mission of mercy that took precedence, otherwise wild horses could not have kept me from you," I tell her to which she replies with a loud bark of laughter.

"Fuck me, the shit that comes out of your mouth. Do _you_ even believe it?" she asks, shaking her head as she saunters toward me like a stealthy cat. I'm not often rendered speechless by a woman, but the sight of her, sweat glistening on the visible pale half moons of her breasts, the light catching the diamond swinging from her navel. Without another word, she slides one arm around my neck and then presses the full length of her body to mine. "Are you going to stop playing hard to get now Talbot or do I have to fuck some sense into you?"

"Uh…oui, s'il vous plaît?" is the only answer I can give. She laughs, a dirty, raunchy sexy laugh that doesn't look like it should come out of a package as compact as hers', and then she presses her lips over mine in a firm, take no prisoners kind of kiss. When she pulls back, her eyes are glassy but she's grinning.

"I'm kind of drunk," she whispers into my ear. The champagne bottle is cold on the back of my neck. I can feel the condensation from the bottle dripping down the back of my t-shirt. "But I'm not _that_ drunk, if you know what I mean."

"No, I'm not sure," I begin, thinking she means that she's not really gonna fuck me senseless and I have to admit to being more than a little disappointed. Not that I came all this way thinking that for sure I was getting lucky but….

"I mean I'm not _soooo_ drunk that I'm gonna pass out under you," she adds, her other hand sliding up under my t-shirt, her fingers walking up the middle of my stomach, making my entire body shudder. "And I'm so fucking jazzed right now, I bet I outlast you," she adds, pinching one of my nipples between her finger and thumb hard enough that it hurts, but so good.

"Great, where are you staying?" I think I should be totally ecstatic and I am, which she is makes it clear she's pretty aware of as she grinds against my hardening dick, but I'm also kind of taken aback. I mean, I've had girls offer it, just like that, in clubs but…I guess I wasn't quite prepared for this.

"Don't worry Max," she whispers as she nips at my lower lip with her tongue, "I don't bite…too hard." With a groan I let her lead me towards one of the doors, staggering behind her because all of the blood is rushing out of my head and quickly south.

"Don't kill him Daze," I hear Kensey laughing behind us, "or somehow that will end up my fault."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Of course he'd go after her, the minute he knew that Marc wasn't on the scene. Of course he'd ignore his friend's feelings and do what the head in his pants told him to do.

Pounding my fist against the steering wheel I promise myself that when I find him, teammate or not, I'm going to kick Max Talbot's ass. I am going to kick his ass and then I'm going to beat him black and blue.

Pressing hard on the gas, I push my car to the limits of safety, weaving in and out of traffic, cursing slow moving vehicles and tossing the finger at any car that gets in my way. Not at the drivers. I'm going to fucking fast to see faces. I have to get there before he does something that will make me kill him.

I keep thinking about how vulnerable she must be feeling and that I've had a hand in that and what a fucking moron I've been this whole fucking time. This is exactly why she went to Marc and not me. I'm always thinking about myself. I've been thinking about rehab and my hand and my foot. I've been thinking about how much I want to play; me, me fucking me. That's exactly why she said she had to choose Marc.

It still hurts. Not all the time. I don't think about it all the time but sometimes I do and then it hurts. It used to hurt because it felt like she had no faith in me. Now it hurts because I feel something and I don't know what to do with those feelings. For so long I've denied having those feelings. To her face, yeah but mostly to Marc's and yeah, I guess mine too.

"What were you gonna do at their wedding genious?" I shake my head at myself. I can picture it in my head, the minister asking something about anyone having any objections and me running up the aisle and spewing out all my feelings like some kind of fucking loser….

And what would Kensey do?

That's why I haven't said anything, why I'm still not sure I will. After all, she made it crystal fucking clear that I was never gonna be the kind of man she would consider marrying. I'm never going to be as responsible as Eric or as reliable as Marc but that doesn't mean I don't care. It doesn't mean I don't have fucking feelings!

I slam on the brakes as I'm about to rear end a stopped eighteen wheeler. My hands shake on the wheel and I'm breathing as hard as I would after a p k shift. Putting my forehead on the wheel, I take a few deep breaths.

"You can't kill Max if you don't get there alive," I tell myself, shutting my eyes and banging my head a few times against the top of the steering wheel. "C'mon Gronk. Get it together."

The blaring of a car horn behind me is a not so gentle reminder that the light's green and the truck in front of me is already half way through the intersection. A glance at the GPS tells me that I've got another hour to go.

Go go gadget sports car.

* * *

"Call me in the morning when you're ready to leave," I yawn as Duncan hands me my key card as we walk out of the elevator on the floor of the hotel.

"Or do you want me to just come in there an' pick you up an' put you over me shoulder an' carry you out like a sack of potatoes?" Duncan offers with a gleam in his eye. "Maybe you want to go an' join wee Daze and that boy Max down the hall?"

"No, god no," I mutter, stifling another yawn. "I think I've sworn off men for a while," I add as I glance at the door numbers as we pass them. "I am glad that her room is nearer yours than mine though," I add, "because I am done in."

"We were planning on sleeping on your floor tonight. I don't want to listen to Daze screaming," Johnny T shudders and then makes a Mr. Yuck face.

"Which is worse, Daze screaming or Dunc snoring? I'm sleeping in the bath, alone." I laugh, elbowing him in the ribs. He grabs his midsection and stumbles into the wall, like he's been shot, sliding down the wall and groaning. I'm reaching for his arm, to pull him up when I see a shape out of the corner of my eye. I know the shape, know without having to actually see all of that shape, who it is and what it means. "Shit!" I curse quietly as Johnny follows my gaze and get very sober and very quiet before he looks up at me with an expression that clearly asks if I'm going to need backup. One shake of my head has him scrambling to his feet.

"C'mon Duncs, let's go see if Cristina's still down in the bar." I hear the boys retreating down the hall, leaving me alone to deal with my own mess. I feel his eyes on me, waiting but I can't quite make myself face him yet. I'm still frozen there as if Johnny's still sprawled on the floor. I'm waiting too; waiting for him to say something so I'll know why he's here.

"Kens…we need to talk." Nodding, I turn and walk towards the door he's leaning against. Without looking up at him, I put the key card in the lock and watch the little led lights turn green and then I push the door open and he follows me inside.

* * *

"Daisy pleasssse," I beg but she only rolls those clover green eyes of hers' up at me and grins around my dick and then goes back to mercilessly teasing me with her lips, her tongue and her hands.

I watch her slide her mouth down over the length of me, slowly swirling her tongue around the width of my cock the entire way and all the while, one hand is slowly jerking the base of my dick while she gently but firmly digs the nails of her other hand into my sac. If it wasn't for the fact that I'm leaning against the wall, I'd have probably passed out a while ago. It feels like all of the blood in my body is in my cock. I can't feel my extremities anymore and my brain switched off at least an hour ago when she slid her talented hands into my jeans while her tongue was down my throat.

Not that I'm complaining, but she's still fully clothed. Well, she's still in her underwear and that's a bit frustrating. It was a long drive and if I'm going to stay the night, and at this rate I'll have little choice, it's going to be a long drive back and what I want most right now is to bury my dick deep inside of her.

But this is good too.

"Don't you like this Max?" she asks as she strokes her hand slowly but firmly from the base to the tip before sliding the head of my dick back into her mouth, her gaze holding mine the entire time.

"Oh I do," I reply through clenched teeth as she slowly slides my dick down over her tongue until she can't take anymore. "I…I just want to do something for you," I tell her, pressing my hands flat to the wall. I want to fist my hands in her hair and fuck her sweet mouth until I pour my seed down her throat. Or better yet, pull her mouth off of my cock, drag her to the bed, push her ankles back by her ears and fuck her senseless.

"Mmm mm," she replies with the slightest shake of her head, her mouth full. Sliding my dick out of her mouth, she rolls her tongue around the head and then digs the tip of her tongue into the divot, making me squirm. "Later…_after_," she grins up at me, turning her head to the side and running the flat of her tongue up the underside of my dick. "And then believe me," she adds, giving my sac a firm squeeze that makes me groan out loud, "I'll make you work."

I open my mouth to tell her I'll be happy to eat her out for the rest of the night if she'll just let me fuck her, but before I can get out a single syllable, she drags her teeth down the length of my wood and the only sound I can make is something unintelligible.

* * *

The arena is empty and dark. I'm too fucking late. They're already loading equipment into a truck. I look around for a bus, some kind of vehicle she might be in, but all I see is the boxes Daze's drum kit is in. I know they're hers' because of the glow in the dark green skull and crossbones emblazoned on them. Jumping out of the car, I run up to the roadie and stop him from loading the last box into the truck, praying that if they're already gone, they didn't leave long ago.

"Where are they?" I ask. The guy who's pushing the box looks back at me with wide eyes. Sometimes I forget that I'm a pretty big guy. I guess when you work with a bunch of other big guys it seems pretty normal.

"They who, man?" he asks, turning his baseball hat around backwards and trying to look nonchalant.

"These guys," I bang on the top of the box with my fist. "The band this stuff belongs to." I'm glad I've never gotten into smoking weed as I watch him look down at the box with this puzzled look on his face. He takes off his ball cap and scratches his head. His long, greasy looking hair is thinning on top. He makes a face, like he's concentrating really hard, and then it's like the light goes on and he brightens up, smiling, showing a row of crooked teeth.

"Oh, they're all back at the hotel. The bus doesn't leave until tomorrow morning."

I want to kiss the guy but instead I just run back to my car, which is when I remember that I don't know what hotel that I'm about to try and find.

"Uh…which hotel?" I yell back at him only to have him stop and scratch his head again, looking perplexed, like thinking is hard. Jared does that sometimes.

"The big one…a couple blocks…I think it has a blue sign." You have to be kidding right?

"Right! I'll find it. Thanks," I call back. Blue sign, how hard can it be to find?

* * *

"How did you get here?" I ask, looking out the window instead of at him. I haven't decided yet what is going to happen when I do. My hands are shaking and my heart is racing, my mouth is dry and my entire body feels like a bow that's been strung too tight.

"There's a few benefits to making over three mill a year," he replies quietly. I can tell he's still by the door, safely across the room and I wonder if he's keeping his distance it for me or for him. "I chartered a flight."

"If you were a chick I'd think you were coming here to tell me you're pregnant but since you're not…?" I leave the question open ended. I'm afraid he's going to tell me he's already found someone else and half afraid that he won't.

"I was…I was kind of hoping that you'd changed your mind," he replies quietly and a shudder runs down my spine.

Did I want to hear that? I look over my shoulder at him, with his head down, looking at his shoes and he's the Marc that was waiting for me on the other side of the gym that night when I came out from under the bleachers and he knew that I'd been talking to Jordan. He was wearing the same face then that he is now, waiting, certain that I was going to tell him something that he didn't want to hear.

"I haven't," I begin and see him nod, like that was exactly what he was ready for me to say. "I haven't decided what I want." I turn to face him, leaning back against the window. The cool pane feels good against my back.

"I've missed you," he says simply, finally looking up at me with those aquamarine eyes of his that have always reminded me of the colour of the water off Montego Bay. "The apartment feels empty without you there." I don't know how to answer that, or even if it requires an answer so I just nod. "This is when you're supposed to say you've missed me too," he prompts, looking over at me with this rueful smile.

"I have," I admit with a shrug.

"But…?" he prompts again and again I'm forced to shrug.

"I don't know. I haven't figured things out yet," I reply honestly and I can see the hurt in his eyes, even though he does his best to keep control over his expression, keep his big bad defenseman mask on.

"So…how long do you think that will take?" he asks, his voice very quiet, controlled, like he's barely holding on. Everything in me wants to go to him, to smooth the worry lines in his forehead, the tension lines around his eyes. Instead, I lean against my hands and shrug my shoulders, again.

"I wish I could tell you," I whisper in reply, "but I just don't know."

* * *

"Oh god yes, harder, oh god yessssssssssss!"

It's like having a fucking cheering section, laugh track and a marching band all rolled into one, curvaceous, sexy red headed package. I'm half afraid my balls are gonna bust wide fucking open but it's been two hours and she hasn't let me finish yet. She's riding me like she's giving me a lap dance, her body writhing like a snake being charmed out of a basket, and I'm as mesmerized by the curve at the small of her back and the slope of her breasts as the snake is by the flute.

Every time I'm about to cum, she'll stop and do something else, switch positions or beg me to go down on her. I'm light headed from lack of blood in my brain, but I don't care if I stroke out now. Fuck, I'd die happy.

"Yeah, you like that ma petite?" I ask, pushing up into her and pulling her hips down at the same time.

"Oh yeah, yeah, so good," she hums happily, biting down on her bottom lip as she throws her head back, shaking out her Pippi Longstocking locks. Sliding my hands up over the soft round globes of her breasts, I roll her nipples between my finger and thumb and she smiles and tightens her muscles around my cock. I groan and shut my eyes. My balls ache for release. "Ah Max, do you want to cum?" she asks, grinding down onto me and licking her full lips. "Do you?" All I can do is nod as she raises a single eyebrow at me and smiles. I think she wants me to beg. I'm not sure I have the energy to.

"Please ma petite fleur, it won't be the last, I can safely promise you that." This is good, her on top, but I still want to drive myself into her with her legs spread wide. I want to plumb the depths of her tight little twat. I don't mind not being in control, that's not my thing, but I'm not exactly a classic bottom either.

With a wide, wild looking grin, she arches her back and reaches for my thighs with her hands and suddenly my brain goes blank. It's not just her taught little tummy with its shiny diamond pendant or her high, firm perky little tits pointing skyward that has my brain spitting out wingdings, it's the way everything tightens around my dick and I go from zero to a hundred in a split second and I know I'm about to let go….

And then the door bursts open.

"Non! Non non, merde! Non!" I cry as Daisy twists to see who's at the door and instead of being as pissed to see him as I am, she grins and does some kind of gymnastic twist and jumps off of the bed and runs into his arms.

* * *

"Which room? Which room?" I'm passed the point of even speak in whole sentences when I grab Duncan off of the bar stool he's sitting at nursing a tall Guinness.

"Jordy, me old mate!" he grins at me like he's happy to see it. I want to ask him if he can't see that I'm in a fucking hurry but he's too busy slapping my back. "It's like old home week. Whatcha doin' 'ere mate?"

"Where is she?" This gets his attention but he just stares at me like what I'm saying is confusing. I'm pretty sure I'm speaking fucking English, which I know is not the fucking gibberish he yaks in but…. "Kens, where the fuck is she?" I ask, grabbing him by the lapels and shaking him.

"Alright mate, calm down. She's upstairs but I think you should know…."

"I know, I know he's up there with her. What room?" I plead, feeling desperate. If I'm right and she's already been with him for hours….

"Shit mate, whatever. I think it's two oh eight but I don't think you wanna go up there now," Duncan insists again but I just toss him aside and head for the nearest elevator and then decide against that and head up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

I can hear the fucking porno sounds all the way down the hall. I want to cry. I can't think of the last time I wanted to fucking cry. I've finally figured out what I want and she's in there, fucking Max. Half of me doesn't want to see it, her in his arms, but the other half has already gone all Hulk and I don't even look at the room numbers. I just find the room where all the noise is coming from and kick it in.

"Jorrrdeeee!"

I expected cursing and 'close the door' and maybe even squeals of embarrassment. I definitely expected Max to be cursing me a blue streak in French. I didn't expect to have Daze jump, naked, into my arms. I have to catch her or have her knock us both backwards into the hall.

I had all these things that I was going to say and now I'm speechless as I stare at Max who's lying on the bed looking decidedly and understandably pissed, covering his man bits with a pillow while I hold onto what I'm guessing was, just a moment ago, his…uh, entertainment.

"When did you get here?" Daze asks, like I haven't just walked in on her having sex, like she's not naked, but then that's Daze. She's never been worried about shit like that. If we were going skinny dipping, she was the first one in. If anyone was playing truth or dare, she was the first to pick dare. If we were playing strip poker, I'd swear she lost on purpose.

"Just now but…I thought…I thought you came to see Kens," I tell Max and he rolls his eyes and shrugs.

"Silly Jordey," Daze laughs as I put her down and try not to look while she skips back to the bed and wraps herself around Max who's still staring daggers at me. Something tells me next practice I'm getting a slap shot in the nuts.

"Can you go now?" Max asks, making the universal 'get lost' sweeping motion with his hand.

"I'm…fuck I'm sorry man I thought…so…where is she?" I ask, turning to Daze who grins back at me without the slightest hint of self consciousness or annoyance.

"Down in the bar with Duncs?" she suggests and then, when I shake my head, she shrugs and then gets that big, mischievous grin that I know means nothing but trouble. "Wanna play Nicky Nicky nine doors?"

"Nah," I have to smile as I back out of the room, "I'll figure it out. I'm really…man I'm…."

"Fucking close the door behind you, merde man!" Max snaps, throwing something at me that luckily misses as I pull the door shut behind me, or as best I can. It's kind of off now, not really sitting right on the hinges. I stand there for a minute, listening to Daze's high pitched giggle.

Man I guess I was wrong.

Now what?

* * *

"So that's it? I'm supposed to wait around for you to figure out…what are you trying to figure out?" Marc asks gently.

"I'm not really sure," I reply honestly, moving over to the bed and sitting on the end of it. I pat the spot beside me. He stares at it for a second and then pushes off from where he's been leaning on the door and walks over and sits beside me. He reaches for my hand, like always and like always I put my hand in his and watch it disappear. We sit there for a long time like that, not saying anything. It feels weird; normal, but strained at the same time. "I can't ask you to wait," I say quietly and he doesn't answer. He just sits there next to me, his thigh pressed to mine, his head down. He's looking at our hands too. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing. It feels normal but not…right.

"If I knew what I did…what I could do?" he looks up at me and it breaks my heart, the hurt and confusion in his eyes. I can't help but reach out and touch his face, stroke his cheek.

"It's not you it's…." Marc laughs and shakes his head.

"I didn't think people actually said shit like that." We both smile and I drop my hand. It does sound so cliché but I don't know how else to say it.

"I thought I was ready. I guess I'm not." It's the only thing I can say and it's the truth. "I don't really know what else I can tell you."

"So you're on this tour and…maybe when you get back…?" he doesn't give voice to the rest of the question that hangs there, unsaid, making the air heavy and hard to breathe. Will I have it figured out by the time the tour is over, will I move back in with him.

"I don't know," I shrug, feeling tears well up in my eyes. "I wish I could tell you something else, especially after you came all this way." I want to thank him for not asking me to leave the band, for not being an ass about this. "I know you've always thought that you came second to the band but it's not about that." It's one of the few things I know for sure. Marc nods, once, a half smile on his face.

"And Jordan?" he asks and my heart stops beating.

"What about him?" I ask, turning my attention to stare at the floor. I feel like a kid that's been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

"How much of this is about him?" he asks, and when I glance over at him, he's staring at the floor, like he doesn't want to see the expression on my face, like maybe he's hoping that I'll lie to him. Part of me wants to, after all, I don't know what I'm even feeling when it comes to Jordan, but I've always been honest with Marc.

"Some," I reply, and my chest tightens and it's hard to breathe. Marc nods and then he gets up, even though he's still holding onto my hand. He pulls me to my feet and then we're walking towards the door.

"Good luck on the tour," he says quietly, turning to me even as his other hand goes to the door. I nod, tears streaking down my face. His smile widens a little but it doesn't reach his eyes as he reaches up to cup my cheek. He looks down at me like he's trying to memorize my face and then he presses his lips to my forehead. "Tell Jordan I hate him," he whispers, and then he lets go of my hand and turns to go out the door. I grab a hold of him and cling to him, fisting my hands in his windbreaker and pressing my face to the middle of his back.

"I love you Marky…I do," I cry. I think I hear him say that he knows or something like that but he doesn't turn around or try to come back. He just waits, patiently for me to let him go and then he opens the door and starts to walk away, only turning back when he gets to the elevator doors. He lifts a hand to wave goodbye, and part of me wants to run to him and drag him back, but I don't. I just lift my hand too, and then I don't wave, because Jordan's standing at the very end of the hall, watching both of us with his hands balled into fists at his sides, looking like he's ready to kill.


	9. Chapter 9

_as always, super apologies for my tardiness. work...sux...that's all. Now back to the story_

**Chapter 9**

"Well…isn't this convenient?" That stony faced defenseman stares down the hall like he's facing down a power forward. I'm half afraid he's going to use Jordan as a tackling dummy…or worse.

"It's not like that," Jordan pauses, meeting his brother's glare warily. I've seen them face off this way before over something as simple as who was wearing what t-shirt. "She didn't know I was here," he adds, as if I'm not there at all.

"You actually want me to believe that." It's like being caught in the crossfire of duel. I want to duck. I want to walk out and take both bullets. Mostly I want them to stop. I don't want to hear the sarcasm dripping from Marc's sweet mouth. I don't want to see the defensiveness in Jordy's blue eyes. I want to hold them both and the worst thing in the world is, I know I can't. I know I have to let this, whatever this is, happen.

"Whatever you want to think of me, don't think she'd ever do that. She's not like that and you know it." It's like a god damn train wreck. I don't want to look but I can't look away, probably because I love them both.

"She must have left me for some reason and you've always been sniffing around, so why not? Why not have you coming in the back door when I go out the front?" I tell myself that he's saying it from somewhere inside that's hurt but that doesn't stop it from being painful.

"It's not the way it looks," Jordan digs his toe into the carpet and hangs his head. He's lying...or not exactly lying but he isn't telling the truth either and if I know it...

"Isn't it? C'mon bro, you and I both know it's _just_ like that and alright, maybe...maybe she didn't know but that doesn't make it less true, does it?" I can't take my eyes off of Jordan and I realize that I'm actually leaning towards him, waiting for him to say something...wanting him to say something. I'm biting my lip and digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands. Part of my head is saying that I should be trying to intervene, to placate Marc and defend Jordan but I just keep staring at him, willing him to say something...pleading silently to hear the words...

"This isn't her fault," Jordan mumbles and then he glances up at me through his hair, all that blonde out of control too long lazy boy hair and the ache in his eyes matches the ache in my chest and I don't know how I stay where I am, how I don't run to him and bury my face in his chest and scream 'yes, yes, _yes_!'.

I didn't know how much I wanted him to want this until it's clear in that one look that he's guilty of exactly what Marc's accusing him of. But he only lets me see it for a minute and then he goes back to studying the hotel carpet like it's so fucking fascinating he can't look away.

"No, no it's not _all_ her fault." Now I have to look back at Marc. The sadness and the underlying anger in his voice tears a huge gaping hole in my chest and then the accusatory look he sends my way makes my knees buckle. "If she wanted to choose you in the first place, then she should have had the balls to just do it instead of taking the safe option." He says it as if he's talking to Jordan but it's me he's looking at and it's me he's aiming that disappointed expression that I thought only his mother could muster.

"That isn't fair," I reply, coming to my own defence, finally.

"Well that _is_ what you call me isn't it?" Marc shrugs, like it doesn't matter except that the anger in his eyes says it does. "I'm the safe one, the responsible one, the Staal with none of the downside; isn't that what you tell your friends?" I open my mouth to argue but there's no point. I've said all of those things and in front of him too, on more than one occasion. So I'm left standing there, silently pleading with him with my hands out, wanting forgiveness but he just shakes his head and smiles bitterly. "Did you ever even love me?" he asks quietly and I can see him struggle not to look at his brother, whose presence we can both feel. This isn't a conversation we should be having in front of Jordan. It's not fair to Marc to have to ask that question out loud. He shouldn't have to.

"You know I love you," I reply sincerely, telling myself I should go to him but I don't. My feet don't obey my brain's command.

"I thought I did," Marc sighs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and glancing down the hall at Jordan. I don't look back. I'm fairly sure if I do I won't be able to look back. "I'm pretty sure I don't now," he adds, trying to sound sarcastic but it just comes out half mumbled, thick with emotion he's trying not to show.

"Marc..." I hold my arms open, like I want him to walk into them, because I do want to comfort him but he isn't looking at me. He's not looking at either of us. Now it's my ginger's turn to stare at his feet. "Marc please," I beg, tears running down my face. "Please," I repeat, sniffing. I want to kiss away the frown on his face. I want to hug away the tension in his shoulders. I want bury my face in his chest and tell him that it's all going to be alright. Neither of us moves and no one says a word for a long time and then he glances up at me and his eyes that have always looked to me like sun kissed waves suddenly look like storm tossed seas. "Do you love him Kens? Do you?"

* * *

It's fucking unbearable. Standing here, waiting to hear her answer. Waiting for her to tell my brother the words I want so fucking bad to hear that my stomach hurts and I'm wondering if I'm going to hurl. It's just like being on the ice for those last few seconds of game seven against Detroit. My heart is hammering in my chest like one of those big drums Taiko drummers wail away at. My head is throbbing like I've just woken up after a weekend of Tequila and Jello shots at Talbo's place. Most of all I can't fucking breathe. I mean I try to. I open my mouth and try to suck wind but it's like the air around us has gotten sucked away somewhere. It's worse than coming off the ice after a bag skate.

"God damn it Kens, just fucking say it!" Marc suddenly roars and Kensey's entire body shudders like he's hit her. I don't need to see her face to know that she's crying and it's crazy fucking hard to stand back like this, to not go to her, to not at least stand beside her, to let her know I'm there with her that she isn't alone in this. My hands are balled into fists in my jacket. I want to punch something but strangely enough, not Marc. This was never his fault and it's not now. I feel bad. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. "Do you Kens? Do you love him?"

Now I'm just plain old holding my fucking breath. I promised Marc a long time ago that as long as they were together, as long as she made it evident that she was with him that I wouldn't interfere. He knew...he knows I've always had a thing for her, that it's always been her or at least that no one else has ever really measured up to her for me, but what he wasn't sure of, what both of us are waiting to hear is how she feels. I've always thought she had really fallen in love with him but...

"I do...yeah."

My knees almost give. I almost end up kneeling there gasping for breath like some kind of guppy that's jumped out of a fucking fish bowl.

She loves me. Holy fucking shit, she loves me.

I promised not to interfere but now...all I can think of is that's a green light...or is it? My knees are shaking and my hands are clammy, sweating. I keep rubbing them down my thighs, trying to dry them off while I stare at her back, willing her to turn and look at me. I want to the expression on her face when she says it again. I want her to say it again.

"Happy now?" I'm staring at the back of Kensey's head and it's like his voice is intruding on this amazing moment and I want to fucking punch him in the mouth but I remind myself that he's my brother and that matters and that no matter what I'm feeling, which is pretty much like I could fly right about now, that he's probably feeling the opposite.

"I don't know yet," I manage, dialling down my urge to grab Kensey up and do some kind of fucking jig. "Am I Kens? Do I have something to be happy about?"

* * *

"Ma chère," I can barely breathe and Daze doesn't even look like she's breaking a sweat. "You're going to kill me or break my dick," I add, sliding my hands up her thighs to her waist. She just grins down at me as she runs her fingers through her hair and continues to grind over top of me. I'm not really complaining but I can't remember the last time a girl outlasted me. I mean, I _am_ a professional athlete, a fine tuned machine, I can go for _hours_.

"Are you complaining?" she purrs, leaning forward and running her hands up my ribs until she's rolling my nipples beneath the pads of her thumbs like she's working a couple of game controllers. Her breasts press softly against my stomach and she's wearing this absolutely sexy grin.

"No, damn, qu'il serait impossible!" I groan, sliding my hands around to cup her ass. She giggle when I give one of her curvaceous cheeks a light smack. "I am just getting the feeling I won't be sleeping tonight and no, before you ask, I won't complain about that either."

"Well, Kensey _did_ say that you were...now how did she put it?" she looks thoughtful for a moment and then grins impishly. "Oh yeah, she said that you were a voracious lover. Why do you think I've been trying to get you into the sack this whole time?" I'm supposed to be flattered. No I am flattered, but now I'm thinking about Kensey and not Daisy and as much as it's been fun, no, good with Daze it was...mind blowing, life altering, existence changing with Kensey. I mean, c'mon, we wrecked a hotel room and I had to pay for it. "Oh my god," Daze uses my chest to push herself up and then she stares down at me, at first with wide eyes and then with Mrs. Potato Head angry eyes. "You're thinking about her...I'm fucking you and you're thinking about her."

"Non, chère, you have it wrong," I grab at her arm, her leg but she's too quick and she's off me and off of the bed and searching the room for her clothing before I can even blink. "Daze...it's not what you think," I moan, lying there on the bed staring up at the ceiling. "Ma petite, don't get upset..."

"Oh don't worry, I'm not upset," she begins but her voice is dripping with acid. "You think I'm not used to this? That I haven't lived my whole life being used to this? The great Kensey Connor, the fucking hot Kensey Thunder. No, I get it. Don't worry. I'm fucking used to it," she snaps, dragging her panties on and searching through the rest of our clothes, tossing mine at me without looking up.

"It's not...it just made me think of her for a moment, merde!" I groan, grabbing my shirt and pants but not putting them on. "Daze, you're...a firecracker," I begin only to have her turn and glare at me like she'd just been possessed by some kid of vengeful demon, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Oh, you're so romantic Max! A firecracker? Like I haven't heard enough cracks about my hair growing up around the Pyatt's and the Staals? Don't say I'm pretty or even cute, but a firecracker...shit," she growls and then shakes her head as she goes back to sliding her bra strap over her shoulder.

"That isn't what I meant and you know it," I grumble, dropping my head into my hands. "Kensey was looking fucking hot in that catsuit and I still came here with you and..." At the sound of a maniacal cackle that sounds like it could be coming from a Halloween special effects soundboard, I glance up to find Daze, now fully clothed, staring back at me in disbelief, hands on hips.

"Do you even listen to yourself?" she laughs and shakes her head. "Jesus I want to believe it's some kind of ESL thing Max but I think it's just that you think I should be fucking grateful for your attention or something. Well for your information, Super stud, I bet I can go down to the lobby right now and find someone else who will appreciate having sex with _me_!" And with that she turns and heads for the door and leaves me hopping from one foot to the other trying to get into my pants as I try to follow her out the door.

"You know that's not what I meant, damn it woman!" I call after her, tugging my pants up and barely getting them zipped up before I fall flat on my face in the hallway while she storms down the hallway, walking faster than I thought her short, but sexy legs could carry her.

"Fuck you, you egotistical asshole!" she calls back over her shoulder at me, flipping me the bird while she continues to charge ahead. Damn it I wish I didn't think crazy women are so damn sexy.

* * *

"I don't know yet," I feel Jordan's breath on the back of my neck and it makes me shiver. I'm still looking at Marc and he's staring at me like I've just stuck a meat cleaver straight into his heart. It makes my chest hurt and I can't stop crying or shaking. I can feel Jordan looming behind me, and there's a part of me that wants to reach back for his hand, to have the comfort of the feel of his skin on mine. There's also another part of me that still wants to go to Marc. I feel like I'm being torn apart and not just into two pieces but more like a hundred and two. ? "Am I Kens? Do I have something to be happy about?" He doesn't sound impatient, or angry, but the gentle brush of his fingertips at the back of my neck tells me wants an answer, and he wants it now.

"I...I...," I don't know the answer, or I do but am afraid to say it out loud. I feel like I'm about to let go of the only thing holding me together, tethering me to the ground and I'm afraid that when I let go...I'm afraid of what will happen.

"Okay you and me, have to talk, now!" It's like I've been in some alternate universe and Daze's hand locking around my wrist suddenly drags me back into reality. I don't even get a chance to adjust as I find myself staggering behind her into the hotel room I'd just been in with Marc and then I'm sitting on the bed and she's talking but I'm not hearing her. All I can think is that Marc hates me and Jordan loves me. That's the only two thoughts in my head. "Hello? Earth to Kens? Did you hear _anything_ I just said?"

"Ummm I guess not...no," I admit, blinking as I look up at her. She's still not in focus and her voice still sounds like it's far away. "I'm sorry Daze...what happened? Where's Max?"

"I thought you said he was some kind of fucking monster in the sack and he was just letting me be in control which is fine but...wait, what's going on with you? Was that Jordan _and_ Marc out there?" We both turn and look at the door and Jordan's standing there, still half in the hallway, propping open the door. He's not looking at Daze. He's looking at me wearing a cautious half smile.

"Hey," I whisper, feeling my mouth pulling itself into a grin.

"Hey," he smiles back, and then closes the door, which for some reason makes me smile even wider, wide enough it almost makes my cheeks hurt.

"What did I miss?" Daze asks, looking from me to Jordy and back. "Fuck, did you finally grow a sac?" she asks, looking at him. "Did you tell her?" she asks, looking at me.

"No, not yet," he replies, his gaze never leaving mine.

"Oh...oh fuck...and I'm just bitching about Max. I'll leave you two alone," she mumbles, moving to grab my old Peterborough Pete's jersey to pull on over her bra.

"That's okay Daze," he says quietly, taking a couple of steps into the room, his gaze still holding mine. "It can wait."

"Yeah, D, what's up, what happened?" I ask, tearing my gaze away from Jordan's to look at Daze who's standing in front of me, staring at the two of us with this strange look on her face.

"Oh fuck, why does everything you do have to be more important than what I'm doing?" she snaps but she doesn't sound or even look angry, just tired. Maybe a little fed up.

"Daze, seriously you have to believe me when I say...," Max bursts through the door and then stops and looks at all of us in turn. "So have you told her?" he asks, looking straight at Jordan who just shakes his head, still wearing a quirky grin. "Tabernack mon ami, spit it out!" he laughs and then walks right past Jordan to grab a hold of Daze's wrist in the same way she'd grabbed a hold of me. "And you, come with me. I'm not finished with you," he growls and then starts to drag her behind him, with Daze protesting the entire way and looking back at me, like I should help, as if I'd be any kind of help to anyone right at this moment.

We both watch them go and then Jordan walks over to the door, turns the deadbolt and slides the chain across and then he turns back and leans against the door. For a moment he closes his eyes and blows out a long breath, leaning against his hands. Then, slowly, he raises his head and opens his sky blue eyes and looks over at me and smiles.

"So...you love me huh?"


	10. Chapter 10

_this took me an entire week to write...and rewrite and...anyway, hope it's worth it_

**Chapter 10**

"Don't let it go to your head." I thought about denying it, but there didn't seem to be much point. I'd said it, and he'd heard it, it was out there. It seemed kind of late to take it back now.

"I'll try," he smirks, pushing off from the wall and walking over to sit beside me on the bed, "but I'm not promising anything." When Marc had been sitting in this same spot, it had felt comforting, like putting on your boyfriends warm, oversized sweater. With Jordan sitting in the same spot, it feels a lot more like waking up after a one night stand and searching through the ruin of your clothes for your underwear. My heart is beating just a little too fast and I press my hands to my thighs, feeling like a nervous teen on a first date.

Picking my hand up off of my thigh, Jordan holds it gently in his, palm up, and runs his thumb over the lines. He's only ever done that one other time and I'm sure that's on both of our minds as we sit alone, together, on the end of the bed.

"Do you think I should go after him?" I ask after a long moment of silence. It's easier to ask about Marc than it is to talk about the giant pink Heffalump in the room.

"I'm not sure he'd want to see either one of us right now," Jordan answers, the pad of his thumb pausing at the base of my ring finger, my _empty_ ring finger. I nod. I'm not sure what I'd say to him anyway. "So...what do we do now?" It's a heavily charged question and there are at least a half a dozen answers that immediately come to mind, but only one shoves all the other comebacks to the back of the bus and demands to be heard.

"This is the part where you tell me I haven't just made an enormous mistake, that you've changed, that you're ready to commit to just being with one person," I say quietly but firmly. I should look up at him, should look into his eyes to see if he flinches, even a little bit but I'm not quite that brave.

"Do you think I want to lose you again, watch you making kissy face with some douche like Max? I hated that by the way," he replies folding my hand over and putting it between both of his and holding it on his lap. "That's why I came all this way tonight, fucking near breaking the sound barrier thinking you were with Max again."

"You thought...you thought I was with Max? Now? Tonight?" I cough, leaning into him hard enough to make him sway.

"You did before," he laughs, pushing back but not as hard. He's always been careful of his size and strength, or at least since he pushed me off the jungle gym which is how I broke my arm. He was also the first to sign my cast and that was the last time, ever, that he pushed, pulled, or tugged me, at least physically.

"Yeah, well, that was a one off." I almost say mistake, but I'm not sure that would be fair to him and I've been having second thoughts about that. Maybe if that hadn't happened and Marc and I hadn't fought then I wouldn't be here now. Not that I'm sure what that means, exactly, yet.

"I still wish that when you decided to do that you'd chosen me instead." I don't know why his statement catches me by surprise but it does. I look over and up at him but he isn't looking at me. He's staring straight ahead and the smile he was just wearing is gone.

"No you don't," I whisper, staring down at me feet. I don't remember when I changed back into the cowboy boots I'd been wearing on the plane. They make my feet look huge but they're really comfortable. Maybe I should wear them on stage sometime.

"Yeah, actually, I do," he replies, and I know he's looking at me, waiting for me to know that he's serious. I don't need to see the sincerity in the limpid blue pools of his eyes or the hopeful quarter of a smile on his full lips to know that he does.

"That would have been a nightmare," I reply, thinking of how Marc would have taken that. At least this way, whatever happens now, everything is out in the open.

"Or this could have all been over already," Jordan gives my hand a squeeze and I finally gather the courage to look up at him. Reaching up, I trace the dimple in his chin and before laying my hand against his cheek. I remember doing this before, I know where it led and I can't decide if that's what I want right now.

"And what would that look like?" I ask, unable to keep my gaze off of his mouth. I want to kiss him, or maybe I want him to kiss me. I can't decide.

"I don't know," he answers honestly, his voice low. I can already feel his body pressing against mine but he hasn't let go of my hand yet. "You know me. I'm not much of a planner." That makes me smile. No, no one would ever accuse Jordan of planning anything ahead of time. Except maybe Marc right about now.

"Maybe that's something we should work on first," I mutter, dropping my hand and my gaze from him at the same time. The logical part of my brain is telling me to get some space, not to rush into anything I might not be ready for, to think this through.

Jordan, however, keeps a good grip on my wrist as I try to pull it free.

"I said I'm not gonna lose you again Kens, and I meant it."

* * *

"Jordan...," she tugs her arm, trying to get up, trying to get free, but I have no intention of letting go. Not now. Not ever.

"I didn't come all this way to catch up and hang out," I tell her, knowing full well that as we sat here, side by side, she was thinking the same thing. I don't know about her, but the visions that are playing in my head right now have never been far from my mind.

"Just because I have feelings for you, doesn't mean we should jump into bed J boy," she says quietly, but she's staring at where my hand is wrapped around my wrist, she's not looking at me, which means she's lying or at least not telling the whole truth. She obviously has no idea what she's done to me, what she's _doing_ to me. Using the grip I already have on her wrist, I pull her to me and she doesn't resist. Putting her hand on my chest so she can feel how fast my heart is beating right now, my other hand tips her face up, forcing her to look at me. "You don't have to mark your territory like some kind of rabid dog Jordan," she adds, and I do think part of her means it, but the expression in her eyes is saying something entirely different.

"You know that song," I begin, feeling my throat constrict just like it does every time I hear her sing it. "_It was you and me and one hot summer, beading up with sweat all over each other_," I speak back the words she wrote and her eyes get wide. "Yeah, I know that's about me...about us," I add, stroking her cheek with my thumb. Damn but those electric blue eyes of hers' have always been my undoing. "_Do all those memories make it so hard to forget about me_? Yeah they do," I whisper, leaning in until my lips are almost touching hers. "_It was you and me, it seemed to last forever, the way you taste, I still remember, the sounds you made_," I add, feeling tears actually spring to my eyes. "I _do_ wish I had you back and you _are_ the best I ever had." A fine sort of trembling runs through my entire body as my lips hover over hers'. "If you want to wait for propriety's sake, I'll understand but I'm not gonna stand here and pretend like I don't want you right now."

Kens groans, but it's not a sexual sound. It's more a declaration of frustration and submission at the same time as she presses her mouth up against mine. It feels like a lightning bolt has just gone in the top of my head and right through my entire body. I'm rooted to the spot, shaking like a leaf and heated to the core. When her lips open and invite me in, when our tongues meet and touch in a dance that's strange and familiar at the same time, I know there won't be any going back, at least not for me.

Her arms slide around my waist and her hands slide up under my shirt and just the feel of her skin on mine, just that insignificant a touch has my engine revving at twelve thousand rpm's. There's no hiding how much I want her as she presses her body against mine and I don't care. I walk her back to the bed until I feel her knees buckle and then we both fall down on the bed together.

Jesus I'd forgotten how small she felt underneath me, how fragile. When she presses her body up against mine I'm suddenly afraid of breaking her. I don't remember feeling like this before but then last time Kens had sort of taken charge. Actually the thought of her one top of me, straddling me is pretty hot but then so is this. She looks up at me with those crazy eyes of hers' and then pulls my mouth down to her neck.

"You smell fucking great," I growl into the curve of her neck.

"Don't lie, I haven't had a shower. I was on stage for forty five minutes under hot lights, dancing," she laughs, wrinkling her nose like she's just thought about it. "Plus these are the clothes I wore to fly down here today so they're not exactly...fresh," she adds with chuckle that turns into a sigh as I press my lips against the thin skin just behind her ear. Maybe it's all the years around mildewed hockey pads and rank man sweat but I'm sure I can still smell that jasmine soap she likes and the lavender scented shampoo. She smells just like I've always remembered her smelling, or maybe it's just that it was hot that night and I like the smell of her that way.

"Mmmm I thought I caught a whiff of your mom's meatloaf," I whisper against the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder. Her skin tastes slightly salty as I kiss her neck all the way down to her shoulder, tugging the neck of her shirt as far as it will allow me to and then, when it won't go any further, I kneel over her, grab the neck of her shirt and start to rip it open.

"You're such a caveman," she giggles but doesn't raise a hand to stop me and then, as I lower my mouth over the sweet, pink flesh of her nipple, her giggle turns into a gasp. I feel her fingers grabbing handfuls of my hair and I can't help but smile, even with my mouth full because that's more like the Kens I know. The next sound out of her mouth is a long, sort of high pitched, series of nonsensical sounds that I'm hoping suggests that I'm on the right track.

We were too young and everything was too new to take our time with this last time. I was in too big a rush to get to the main event. Now I want to taste, lick, nibble on every single millimetre of her flesh. I don't want to miss anything. I also want to be the last person to touch and taste every part of her; it's the competitive part of me.

Her back arches completely off of the bed when I open the button on her jeans and slide my hand inside and she lets out a strangled cry that makes my cock twitch. Her fingers dig into my scalp and I wince, feeling her tug on my hair. Maybe I should cut it if she's going to keep doing that.

Letting her nipple escape from between my teeth, I kiss my way back up to her mouth and she greedily accepts my kiss as I sink two fingers deep, up inside of her. Christ she's hot and wet.

I may not be able to hold out as long as I hoped.

* * *

I feel him unsnap my jeans and then his hand slides down the front of my panties and I'm gone. My mind goes blank. No, not blank, more like star filter or maybe like there's bottle rockets going off in my brain. He goes right for the trigger, for the detonator without any hesitation. This is definitely not like last time. Last time he couldn't have found my clit with a map, a compass and a flashlight. Hell, I could hardly find the thing myself, let alone guide him to it. Now, obviously he doesn't need any help and he knows just what to do, how much pressure to use, just how to touch me to make writhe beneath him, to beg him for more and then, just as I think he's going to bring me right away, he slides his hand lower and then shocks me even more by curling his fingers up inside me and hitting my g-spot after only one try.

"Holy fucking god damn mother fucking shit!" I'm dead from the neck up. My brain turns into a puddle of mush and it's all I can do to hold onto his massive shoulders as my heels dig into the bed and my entire world focuses on the spot his fingers are expertly massaging. As unfair as it is, I can't help thinking, just for a moment, that Marc never even looked for that spot, not even once. Oh he could make me cum a dozen other ways and it wasn't that he couldn't satisfy me, it's just that it was never this easy for him. "Uh...uh...oh holy fuuuuuuuck!" My hips raise off of the bed and then slam down again as my entire body begins to quiver and shake. Jordan's mouth covers mine and he drinks my moans, his mile wide shoulders pressing me down onto the bed, like he's expecting me to float away like a bouquet of balloons.

"I'd forgotten just how dirty your little mouth gets," he whispers as he kisses the corner of my mouth. "You'd think you'd grown up around a bunch of hockey players," he adds before he covers my mouth with his again. With the Staal boys, Eric is definitely the most blessed in the lips department, but Jordan's always come a close second. I can't help comparing them, even though I try not to think about Marc as his younger brother's tongue slides over mine and his fingers do things to me that make it almost impossible for me to breathe. "I bet I can make you do that again," Jordan says, grinning down at me as his fingers again slide down towards my entrance. I shudder in anticipation. There are men who wish their dicks were as big as his two fingers put together.

"I have no doubt about that," I reply, pressing down on his hand and then squeezing my eyes shut as he slides his fingers deep into me, "but what about you?"

"Don't worry about me," he whispers into my ear, working his long, thick fingers slowly in and out. "I uh...didn't come prepared so uh...we'll just worry about you." I can't help it. I laugh. I can't imagine any of the Pens boys going anywhere without a month's supply of condoms. Not with all the puck fucks and desperate attention whores in wedding gowns tossing themselves down in front of them like ceremonial offerings.

"Really?" I ask, pushing against his massive shoulders, so I can see if he's just saying that so he can torture me some more or, even more Staal like, just to be funny.

"Yeah, well...I just came to stop you from being with Max." He blushes, actually turns pink and turns his face away from mine. It's so adorable that I decide not to make fun of him, though I will store that information for later use.

"Go down the hallway and ask Max some, I'm sure he has spares," I direct him, giving him a little shove, which has no effect whatsoever on his tall, solid frame.

"Uh...don't think that would be such a good idea," he mumbles, rolling onto his side and glancing downwards. I follow his gaze down to the very obvious bulge in his pants. Oh yeah, that's the other thing he has a step up on his elder sibling.

"Like Max hasn't seen that before," I grumble, pushing him as hard as I can towards the edge of the bed. It still has little, if any, effect, but my scooting up towards the head of the bed and struggling out of my jeans at the same time does. "That's right, I'll finish without you if you don't hurry up," I add, tossing my jeans onto the floor before hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my black boy shorts. "Well? Go on, or do you not want to..."

"I'm going, I'm going!"

* * *

"Oh...oh god." My argumentative little red head isn't arguing much now with her hands planted against the headboard and her curvy little bottom bright red from the spanking, which she thoroughly enjoyed. Little minx. "Harder damn it! C'mon you Frog bastard. Fuck me harder!"

"Pas de problème," I grin, raising my hand above her rosy little heinie and then bringing it down flat against her ass, making her yelp.

"I said fuck me not hit me you...oh...my..._god_," she howls as I slam into her with renewed force, burying myself balls deep in her sweet, tight little pussy.

"Like that?" I ask, sliding my hand up her back to grab hold of one of her pony tails and tugging on it until she turns that cute little freckled face back to look at me.

"You can do better," she taunts me, grinning impishly.

"I can," I reply, raising my hand again only to have her narrow her green eyes at me, practically daring me to do it. I'm more than happy to oblige. "But I don't want to hurt you ma petite." I let go of her hair and stroke her neck, her shoulder.

"If you do...if you start to," she purrs, her gaze raking over my chest and then up to my eyes, "then I'll let you know." God, this woman.

"Ah, ma petite." My fingertips trail down to the small of her back and trace the tattoo of the pair of crossed drumsticks at the small of her back, "if you insist." She presses back against me and I can't help but groan. This woman is awesome. Grabbing hold of her waist, I slide nearly all the way out, looking down at my cock gleaming with her juices and then I drive it all the way back in, making her cry out. "Oui, c'es ça? You like that?" She bobs her head up and down but the only noise comes that comes out of her throat is a whimper. "Yeah you do, you like that," I purr as I bury myself deep inside of her, feeling her body tightening around mine. "Shit you feel...so good."

"Shut up and fuck me Max," she purrs and I swear my cock swells and earns an inch in width.

"As my lady wishes," I reply and, putting both hands around her waist, I start to slam into her, ramming my cock in and out of her hot, wet cunt as fast and as hard as I can. "Like that, Daze? Do you like it like that?" She nods again with her moist lips parted but with no sounds coming out save the occasional whimper. "Yeah I guess you do."

Daze slams her fist into the headboard and says something unintelligible and drops her head down. Yeah, she likes it.

"Sorry, sorry to disturb you guys."

I damn near jump out of my own fucking skin and for the second time tonight my second best feature shrinks and I let out a string of frustrated curse words.

"Tabernak Gronk, can't you seem I'm fucking busy here!" I grab a handful of sheet and pull it over Daze. The big blonde goof has seen me naked a million times but that doesn't mean she has to lose her dignity.

"Yeah, about that. I'm sorry man. You know I wouldn't bust in if I wasn't desperate." Looking at him, his hair more messed up than usual, his lips more swollen than I've seen them in a while and sporting a boner the size of the Titanic, I'm willing to forgive, this once. It's pretty obvious that he isn't lying.

"What do you need?" I ask, diving under the sheet to tickle the giggling Daze. "Be fast mon ami. Can' you see this woman needs a good fucking? I was giving it to her but you keep interrupting."

"Don't be gross. Daze...man, don't tell me shit like that...ewww," he replies averting his eyes and shaking his head. "I just...man, do you have some...you know, battle helmets?" I stare at him, shaking my head. Is the guy serious? "You know...goalies...raincoats...?"

"You mean these?" I ask, reaching over to the open box on the bedside table and pulling out a string of foil wrapped rubbers. "Coloured? Ribbed? What do you need mon ami? I've got it all." Daze lets out another snort and wriggles in my arms under the sheet. "Only hurry up, I can't hold out much longer. I have to fuck her. This one's an animal with needs."

"Have you got any...you know, big ones?" he asks, snapping the handful I toss towards him out of the air and looking down at them like he's actually going to read the label.

"Fuck man, yours isn't _that_ big," I grumble and Daze lets out a high pitched squeal as I slide my hand along her back and along her dripping wet snatch. "Now get out man, I have work to do, isn't that right, ma petite?"

* * *

"You sure you know how to use those Staalsy?" Daze giggles from beneath the sheet and Max laughs. I don't. I'm so fucking nervous I can barely hold the string of rubbers Max tossed at me. I don't answer her. Not that her question needed an answer. Normally I'd laugh, or at least if that comment had been at someone else's expense I probably would have. Right now I'm not sure that I could laugh. Right now, as I walk back towards Kensey's room I'm not sure I'm going to be able to stop my hands from shaking long enough to actually get one of the wrappers open.

"I got one...some," I mumble as I open the door and close and lock it behind me. There's no answer. In fact, there isn't a single sound that answers my entry into the room. Looking up, I realize that the bed is empty. In fact the whole room seems empty and there's no sign of her, except for her jeans on the floor beside the bed and Kensey's lacy black panties which are artfully draped over the table lamp beside the bed. "Kens?"

"In here."

I turn towards the sound of her voice to see the bathroom door sitting just ajar, steam licking the floor. Breathing a sort of sigh of relief, I rip a couple of the foil packets off the row with my teeth and toss the rest onto the bed as I walk by. My shirt follows and as I push the bathroom door open, I'm already unbuckling my jeans.

"Getting clean for me?" I ask as I step out of my jeans and leave them on the bath mat. Kens grins up at me from a bubble filled tub.

"Mmmhmmm but I'm ready to get messy again." My hard on was flagging but the sight of her in all that steamy water, knowing that she isn't wearing a stitch under all those bubbles is enough to send all of the blood in my body back down into dick, leaving me standing there in my boxers, obviously happy to see her. "Well don't just stand there J-boy, I'm waiting."

"Yeah...yeah I am." I go to peel my shorts off like an eager teenager, but a little voice in the back of my head stops me. "Just...before we, you know," I mumble, feeling my face get hot as she raises an eyebrow at me. " I just wanna say...I mean, you should know that I..." The words suddenly won't come to me. Not like they did before. It feels important, like I have to say it, but now I feel all fucking shy and shit and I'm all fucking tongue tied.

As if I wasn't having a hard enough time with it, Kens suddenly stands up, her beautiful body glowing from the warm water, bubbles clinging everywhere and any hope I had of speaking flies out the window. I open my mouth but the only sound that comes out is a kind of idiotic nonsensical mumble which she silences with a long, soft, warm kiss.

"I love you too Jordan, now get in here," she purrs and then reaches out slide her hand in the front of my boxers, curling her warm fingers around my knob and then I just can't think of anything but being inside of her and then I go back to being the eager beaver teenager, jumping out of my boxers and into the tub, sending water and suds everywhere.

* * *

It isn't easy, but somehow we manage to negotiate all of Jordan's long limbs and find a way for me to slide down over him and then nothing else matters. The minute he slides up inside of me I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is where I should have been all along. This, his lips on mine, our bodies joined, feels right.

Tears well up in my eyes and as quickly as they spill onto my cheeks, he kisses them away. He may have been momentarily bashful, but now, as his long arms hold me close and we rock together in the warm water, he says all the right things. He tells me I'm beautiful and that he's so glad he's in love with his best friend and that he's ready to tell all those other girls that he's mine. I wanna believe every word, but that little angel on my shoulder keeps whispering in my ear that he's burned me before.

"If you break my heart Jordan," I whisper in his ear as the tightening in the pit of my stomach tells me that I'm close to not being able to speak with any kind of clarity or conviction, "I'll break your face and rip off your dick." He smiles, that big, boyish, silly grin of his and shakes his head.

"I don't want to lose you to anyone else," he tells me earnestly. "Besides, I'm pretty sure now, more than ever, that I wouldn't just be answering to Duncs but I'm willing to bet Marc would rip me apart too and honestly I'm way more scared of my brothers than I am your undernourished guitar player." He grins up at me and then the expression behind his eyes softens and urges my lips down onto his as he presses himself up into me and with our tongues twined, I fall.

(** lyrics in italics at from 'Bet U Wish U Had Me Back' by Halestorm)


	11. Chapter 11

I know, I know it's been forever and I am sorry for the wait but someone's had midterms and has been hogging the computer, but I hope this will somewhat make up for that. Also, if there are any mistakes in the French, I'm sorry about that too. I was going to send it to one of my betas to check over but I failed to forward her email to my work pc so my bad and maybe (becuz she knows who she is) can check it all over once this is done before I post the whole thing

**Chapter 11**

"Say something else." Twining a strand of her garnet coloured hair around my finger, I stare up at the ceiling and realize that I'm grinning like a kid getting a puppy on Christmas morning.

"Que voulez-vous me dire?" I chuckle, wincing a little as Daze stopped playing with my chest hair and grabbed a handful and tried to tug it out instead.

"Something sexy," she insists, training those clover green eyes of hers' on me and I can't help but push my luck.

"Quelque chose de sexy." I know the moment I say it I'm going to be punished and I don't care. I don't care what she does to me as long as I don't go to sleep and miss out on any of the time we have left. With a feral cry of protest she straddles me and pins my arms to the bed, or I let her think she does anyway. Truth be told, I could easily throw her off and turn the tables, but why would I? She looks so amazing there, like some kind of Celtic warrior with her hair like a fiery halo around her head and the tribal tats on her muscular arms reminding me that she'd not like any of the weaker sex I've ever had the pleasure of having in my bed. This one can, and does, fight back.

"Okay, so tell me something sweet and don't," she adds, digging a finger painfully into the centre of my chest, "say quelque chose de sucré."

"Tu parles français mon petite, c'est bien," I tell her, reaching forward to run my fingers up the soft, smooth skin of her thighs. "Ton peau est si douce, si pale. Tue s comme la lune et comme le soleil en même temps." The cat like glow of her eyes settles down into a dull flicker as she slides her hands up to my shoulders and then slowly settles herself on top of me, her soft round breasts pressing against my chest as she nearly comes nose to nose with me.

"That's better," she whisper, her lips so close and yet too far away to kiss. "Now say something else."

"Tue s un peu coquine exigeants, mais très jolie," I tell her, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face. I almost expect it to burn my fingers, the way she's already burned her way into my soul. "Je pense que je suis en amour avec toi." It's out before I can edit it, before I can take it back and I know the minute her saucy little smile is exchanged for an expression of stunned silence that I can't hope that she doesn't know what I've said. "Maybe it's crazy," I continue, half in fear that she'll grab all of her stuff and go charging out into the hall again, "but tell me you don't feel something too."

"Yeah but...you're...you're Mad Max, you don't have feelings," she says in this shocked voice that barely disguises the trembling in her voice that gives away her true feelings. She goes to push up and away from me but I wrap her in my arms and roll us over until my entire body is pinning hers' to the bed.

"Am I such a monster ma petite that you have to run from me? What if I do have feelings, hmmm? What if I were to say vous avez volé mon âme?" She stares up at me with this adorably defiant pout and then turns her gaze from mine.

"I don't know what you just said so if you're just teasing me, you can stop now. You're hurting my feelings." I try not to but I end up laughing as I press my lips to her cheek, the shell of her ear and the quick pulse beating just under the skin of her neck.

"I do not tease, mon petit chaton. I think it's you who is the tease here. I am bearing my soul to you and you will not even look at me." I wait until she slowly, reluctantly turns her pretty face back and then I capture it in my hands. "C'est mieux. Now, you've stolen my heart, ma déesse celtique, so what are we going to do about it?"

* * *

It's a game changer. It's like making it through a double minor five on three and then popping in a shortie. As we lie there in the dark, me staring up at the ceiling with my arm around her, her cheek on my chest, her fingers splayed on my skin, I know that my life is going to be different from now on. I think I should be scared. I'm not. I'm actually way too fucking calm and that's what scares me. Not that there will never be another woman in my bed. I've had my share and I always knew that when I made this choice that this would be it, no more fucking around with faceless sluts, no more one night stands, no more bailing from strange rooms in the middle of the night. One woman, forever and that's okay with me. After all, as I look down at her dark hair falling across my arm and she turns those crazy aquamarine blue eyes at me, I can't help but think, how could anything be better than this?

"Hey," I kiss the top of her head and she snuggles closer, making one of those happy little kitten sounds and that makes me smile. Yeah, Gronk might be off the market but that isn't what has me awake right now.

I'm just wondering if my brother will ever speak to me again.

BAM BAM BAM

"Mon ami, Staaalsy are you awake in there?" I groaned. Kens giggled and pulled the sheets up over her head.

"If you've run out of condoms, you'll have to walk to the store. I'm out," I called back, which made Kensey snort as she dug her fingers into my ribs causing me to squirm.

"Don't be a dick!" He called back and I grudgingly reminded myself that I had caught him and Daze in the act.

"Hold on," I grumbled and reached for the last two remaining condoms left from the strip he'd given me earlier. I'd had plans for these, like in the morning and then maybe in the shower. I guess I'll be the one making the trip to the nearest 7-11 before I go to sleep. "Now you're just showin' off," I snap as I pull the door open to find not only Max but Daze in the hallway with him. "Uh...no offence man, and I know we've done it before but...I'm not into sharing Kens," I mutter, keeping my voice low as I glance over my shoulder. I really don't want to know if Kens is into it.

"No offence man, but been there, done that," Max leans forward and whispers with that '_I'm totally fucking with you_' look on his face. "Where's Kens? We have an announcement." I stand there like a mannequin while he brushes by me, tugging Daze behind him. I stare after him, wondering if anyone would actually arrest me for killing him.

"Max...Daze, I'm so glad you're here." The sarcasm that drips from Kensey's lips makes me smile.

"We're getting married." I've often said that nothing, and I do mean _nothing_, Max could say or do would surprise me anymore and yet I find myself staring at him with my mouth hanging open. I turn to Kensey, hoping she'll say or do something that will make sense but she just sits there in the bed with the sheets pulled up loosely around her, watching him expectantly like what he's just said isn't completely outrageous. She doesn't look like she's concerned about her modesty, but then, I remind myself, Daze has probably seen her naked a hundred times and then there's Max... "Look, I'm not stupid. I've been with some women in my life...," he waits for us to make a comment but I'm still too stunned to speak and Kens merely raises her eyebrow at him. "Okay, a lot of women, but I know when I've met my match," he adds, turning and laying a gentle kiss on Daze's forehead. She beams up at him like he's the most amazing thing in the entire world. I think I'm gonna be sick.

"So what are you gonna do? Fly down to Vegas tonight?" Kens asks, like she's actually interested in the answer.

"No," Daze grins up at Max as she wraps her arms around his chest. "There's a place, a wedding Chapel in Germantown that can take care of it all. We looked on line. They'll even do the paperwork to waive the three day waiting period."

"I think a waiting period might be a good idea," I mutter and then everyone turns towards me like I've just pissed in the punch. "What? Oh c'mon, you guys just met."

"That's not strictly true," Daze purrs and closes her eyes as she lays her cheek against Max's chest.

"She's had a thing for him ever since you became a Pen J-boy," Kens smiles up at me and holds her hand out, inviting me back to bed. "They're adults. It's their decision. Ours is not to question why but...I'm guessing to stand up for you as your witnesses?" She looks from Daze to Max as I walk around them, careful not to get too near. I may have decided that I'm off the market but that doesn't mean I'm ready to sign over half of everything I own tonight.

"You will, mon ami? Pour moi, s'il vous plaît?"

* * *

"This is so against everything I stand for," Jordan grumbles as I pin a corsage onto his sweatshirt. They had suits to rent but none of them fit the wide shoulders and thick, muscular legs of a hockey player, so a corsage is the best I can do to dress him up.

"I had no idea you were anti- marriage," I muse, smoothing the thick cotton material across his chest. "That might change things."

"That's not what I meant. I meant for _him_, for Max...not me," he mumbles, sounding deadly serious which makes me smile, but I don't look up at him, don't let him see that I think it's funny that he's suddenly as nervous as a virgin on grad night.

"Mmm is that so?" Pressing my hands flat against the solid wall of his stomach, I turn my gaze up to meet his and my knees buckle, just a little. He's got that expression on his face again, thunder and lightning making his blue eyes gray.

"This isn't a joke," he snarls and my heart races. I've rarely seen my Jordy so serious and I can only remember him looking this... agitated once; when he watched me walk away from him to his brother. I'd been too hurt and angry to think of it as sexy then but now...

"I honestly don't think that either of them thinks that this is a joke. I think they're just both really...I guess emotional people and they know what they want and they're just going for it," I explain but just as I go to take my hands back he grabs both of my arms by the wrists and clamps down, hard.

"Are you saying you don't think I know what I want?" he asks in a voice that's both hoarse and at the same time thick with emotion as his storm filled eyes search mine. I think about pushing the easy button and lightening the mood with some flippant comment that will ease the tension of the moment but then I decide that even when it's hurt like hell I've always been honest with him, so why start with the half truths and white lies now?

"I'm saying I don't know how you feel Jordan," I whisper, as I wonder why it is that I like the feel of his fingers digging into the thin skin of my wrists.

"I said that I love you," he hisses back at me as I stare down at his long, thick fingers.

"No," I correct him, looking back up into those blue eyes of his. "_I_ said it for you and you're the one who thinks this is a joke." I watch his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and then he uses his grip on me to pull me against him right before he presses his mouth down over mine in a bruising kiss that bends my back to the point where I'm relying on his vice like grip on my wrists to stop me from falling.

"I do love you," he growls, his lips barely lifted from mine, "and I don't plan on taking the rest of our lives together lightly." My heart soars, beating so hard in my chest I assume he can not only hear it but must be able to see it too as he now gently pulls me upright and wraps his big, strong arms around me. "I told you, I'm not letting you go, not now, not ever. Get it through that thick skull of yours woman."

"Hey, hey, _I'm_ the one getting married here." We both turn to look at Max who has managed to squeeze himself into a shiny sort of grey suit that looks like it was lifted from the set of The Sopranos, complete with a glossy purple tie. I have no doubt in my mind that Daze will love it.

"Speaking of which, I should get to your lady love. Make sure she hasn't come to her senses and run off," I grin at Max before quickly turning to offer my lips up to Jordan, one more time. This time the kiss he offers is soft and quick, more of a peck really, but the look in his eyes says that there will be more, later.

As if there was any doubt.

* * *

"Don't look at me like that." Which is really Jordan not looking at me at all. "So you and Kens eh mon ami? All good? À nouveau ensemble?"

"Yeah...yeah I guess," he answers, staring after Kens, although she's gone, out of sight. I understand what he's feeling. I just want Daze to be back with me. I want to hold her hand and kiss her...yeah...I really, really want to kiss her.

"You think I'm nuts, don't you?" Jordan glances over at me and then back at the doors through which Kensey walked through.

"Maybe a little, yeah," he replies with a shrug and then finally turn and faces me. "Dude...you don't really know her. I mean, Daze is...she's...she's cool but...marriage...you? It's like...the opposite of you," he mumbles and then shakes his head before shrugging his massive shoulders again. "I mean...whatever man, I'm not gonna tell you what to do or whatever but...I'll just have to kill if you hurt her, y'know?" I nod and for a minute it feels like the tension is finally easing but then he gets that serious look on his face and I know that I'm not going to get off that easy. "You're not just doing this because of Kris are you?" I shake my head. It would be easy to say that, that because it seems like me and TK are the last single guys left on the team, but it's not.

"You know how they say you'll know, tu sais?" He nods but doesn't look enthused about where I'm going with this. "Je sais. I thought it was total bullshit too, mais...then I felt it and I don't want to stop feeling it. You understand...I mean you feel the same, oui?" After heaving a huge sigh and another glance towards the still closed double doors, he nods.

"Yeah, I'm totally fucked," he replies and then he looks over at me and even though I can see fear in his blue eyes, he's smiling. "Fucking women," he adds, shaking his head.

I'm about to open my mouth to say something along the lines of 'can't live with them, can't live without them when the door opens and Kensey is standing there in this little black strapless number. Before, even a few days ago, that would have held my full attention but not tonight...or is it this morning? Now all I can see is Daze in simple white lace sleeveless dress with a black velvet ribbon at her waist and all of her carrot coloured glory piled up behind a simple black velvet headband and my mouth goes dry and my palms get sweaty and all of a sudden I'm grinning like someone's about to hand me the Stanley fucking Cup.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"You can't quit the band to be a WAG." Crushed isn't even the right word for the way I feel about the announcement that my best friend has casually made over lunch, like she's saying she wants to get her nails done, not break up something that's been both of our whole lives for as long as I can remember.

"Oh c'mon Kens, you and I both know that I'm not really that good a drummer and besides," she tilts her head to one side and continues to look across the table at me with this elfin grin that hasn't left her face for a week, "it's been in the cards for a while now. It's not just about Max. This is about you."

"This is our band Daze. That's why it's called Thunder Daze. It would be like sawing apart Siamese twins," I grumble, stabbing at one of the fries on the plate with my fork. I'd really wanted them, and they're the kind I like, steak cut all hot and salty, but suddenly I have no appetite.

"Maybe for a while it will be babe but I realized something when we did that last video. You're Gwen Stefani and we're No Doubt now. No one gives a shit about those guys. I mean, can you name one of them? No, and that's what Duncs and me and JT are for you now. We're just background. It's Gwen Stefani and No Doubt if they even mention the name of the band and that's exactly what's gonna happen to us and, well, we all kind of know it. You're the only one who doesn't see it."

If I hadn't already gone off my Turkey Bacon club, having had a few home truths delivered up cold had turned me off completely. I pushed my food around on the plate and tried to ignore the rising panic that was making my stomach churn and threatening to send the few bites I'd managed so far up the way they'd gone down.

"You're my partner," I said quietly, still staring at my plate.

"I'm your security blanket and you've got Jordy for that now," she corrected me. "Hey, I don't mind, honest. I like being in a band but you know I've never really liked all the glam shit anyway. I'll probably be happier playing in a garage band in Pittsburgh and I guarantee the record company will be happier not having to include the rest of us. Besides," she added, reaching across the table for my hand, "you're the writer, the composer, the face of the band. You don't need the rest of us." I couldn't imagine not being on the road with her. I couldn't imagine not seeing her all the time.

"I don't know how you can just make a huge decision like this in like...two days," I sigh, knowing that I've got his little girl hopeful expression on my face. Daze smiles and holds my hand in both of hers'.

"I just married the most randy hockey player of all time didn't I?" she grins and at the same time leaves my argument punched full of holes.

"That you did my friend. That you fucking did."

* * *

"Way to let the fucking side down mon ami!" Laughing, Flower throws his arms around me and then it's a massive bromance group hug with half the team piling on. "If you're going to go to the dark side, what do I tell V?"

"What can I say? I had to do it," I explain, holding up my hand so everyone can see the gold band on my finger. "I finally met a woman like that who calls me on my shit and keeps me up all night with the most amazing fucking sex ever. I couldn't let her get away. Fuck, one of you might have got to her," I add with a quick glance towards Tanger who just grins back like I was right for thinking of it.

"I guess you'll be next huh Gronk?" Sid turns to Jordan who had followed me into the room.

"Hey, I didn't drink the Kool-Aid," he laughs and turns to hang his jacket up in his locker.

"Oh c'mon, you've been in love with that girl for years. Are you seriously going to stand there and tell us you're not going to try and tie her down as soon as you can?" Jordan just raises an eyebrow at Sid and then turns to glare at me.

"What? We're happy for you!" I laugh but he just rolls his eyes and turns his back.

"I'm not insecure like Talbo. I don't need to put a ring on it for Kens to be mine," he replies smugly.

"Yeah, how does Kensey feel about that?" I ask and watch as he edits the smart ass comment he begins to make and then starts to wonder what, exactly, I might mean by that. "She wanted to marry your brother, remember that you big dork?" I watch as he blows out his big lips, making a sort of horse sounding noise and then scratches his head.

"Talbo has got a point Gronk," Duper grins at him. "Come to the dark side Staalsy. I can't wait until you have to get up to change diapers at three in the morning," he adds with an evil sounding cackle. "Now we just have to work on Flower and Tanger."

"Laissez moi sortir de cette!" Tanger cries and holds up his hands in front of his face.

"And don't you go giving V any ideas!" Flower adds, pulling his mask on and holding his stick out like a barrier towards me, like maybe what I've done is catching. Funnily enough, the thoughtful look on Gronk's face says that maybe it is.

* * *

"_They all want to quit_." I don't think I've ever heard her like this and it's kind of pissing me off that she's in Detroit and I'm in New York. This is when the whole long distance thing sucks. She sounds like she needs her boyfriend and I'm sitting in a restaurant waiting to see if my brother will show up.

"Just leave you on the road?" I ask, trying to picture either Duncan or Daze just leaving her high and dry and what kind of fight would have caused that, especially between her and Daisy. I can't actually remember the two of them ever fighting though, so it's kind f hard.

"_No just...at the end of the tour_," she sniffs and I can easily picture her nose turning red and her sea blue eyes filled with tears. "This is all Max's fault," she adds with a sob. My free hand curls into a fist. I know how long she's wanted this but I also know something about Kens that most people don't. She has stage fright, big time and I can't imagine her going on stage with a bunch of strangers.

"And they all want to quit?" I ask as I remind myself to hide Max's cup when I get back to the rink.

"_Do you ever just hate Sid for always being the poster boy_?" she asks with a sigh and suddenly what she's talking about becomes crystal clear.

"Well you _are_ a fox babe," I unclench my fist and reach for the ice water instead. "And yeah, sometimes we all get fed up being the backup singers to Prince Charming, but he gets pretty fed up with all the attention too." I hear her heave another sigh but at least it sounds like she's getting her tears under control. "I wish I was there with you," I add, knowing that just a look, just a squeeze of her hand can go a long way to making me feel better when I'm feeling like a shit. Guess that should have clued me in that she was the one a long time ago.

"_So is he there yet_?" she asks quietly.

"No, not yet." I glance towards the door, looking for his ginger hair. No sign yet.

"_I'm glad he agreed to see you. I was worried that he would never speak to you...to either of us again_." I can hear the smile in her voice. I wish I was relieved. I haven't ordered any food because I'm still pretty sure that Marc might just be coming to kill me. "_Have you told Eric or Jared yet_?"

"Jared's fine with it. Whatever, he called it a long time ago. Eric...he says he'll reserve judgement until Marc forgives me." She makes a noise; not yes or no, it's just a noise but it's covering for something else, probably something she'd like to say about my stick in the mud brother but won't. My Kens has always been careful like that, always careful about coming in between me and my brothers. "You know I choose you right? Whatever Marc or Eric say, I choose you."

"_I love you Jordan_." I grin and get that feeling in the pit of my gut again. I'm really not ever gonna get tired of hearing that. I open my mouth to tell her that I feel the same when a giant hand comes into hard contact with the back of my head.

"I uh...I gotta go babe. I'll call you later." Marc slides into the seat across from me and rolls his eyes.

"It's babe already? Fuck."

"He's there, isn't he?" she asks as I flip him the bird. "_Well good luck. You've got i.d. on you right? In case he tosses you in the East River? I don't want to have to come all that way to i.d. your body_."

"They'd probably call Eric, he's closer anyway. Gotta go. Bye." I end the call and then lay my iPhone on the table.

"That was Kens, I assume," Marc begins. I nod, wondering if he's going to pick up the glass of ice water in front of him and chuck it at me. The back of my head is throbbing just a bit. "How is she?" I start to say 'fine' but decide that she wouldn't want me to do that.

"Actually she's a little upset...sounds like the rest of the band 's a little sick of just being background," I explain. Marc nods and looks thoughtful for a moment.

"She'll hate losing Daze. Did she _really_ marry your buddy Max?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"She did yeah. How fucked up is that?" We both grin and he shakes his head and then turns to call the waiter over before he turns back to me. "You gonna marry Kens?"

"I think so...yeah."


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm not going to get through tonight," I sigh, wiping at my eyes and reaching for the loose powder for about the third time.

"Here, let me, your hands are shaking." Looking at Daze with her barely there baby bump makes my eyes fill again and she rolls her eyes and tips her head to the side, waiting for me to get my emotions under control. "You're going to be fine. This is just one more concert, no big deal."

"You're kidding, right?" I sniff, reaching for a tissue and dabbing at my eyes with it. "I can't believe you're really doing this. That you're really going to abandon me." Daze shakes her head again and I know what she's going to say before she actually says it out loud. We've been over this a dozen times or more over the last few months and we both know she isn't going to change her mind. Especially not now that she's pregnant. Still her maternal instincts are already kicking in and I sit still while she fusses over me.

"You're doing a duet with Lauri Ylönen next week and the label is putting a band together for you and you're still going to have Duncs. You don't need me wobbling around, getting in the way. You definitely don't need a little sprog throwing up on your sexy outfits," she adds, running her fingers over the leather edging on my crushed velvet deep purple and black corset. "This would so not stand up to spoiled milk upchuck."

"And how do you think Max is going to stand up to a little barf?" I ask and this soft expression comes over her face and suddenly her gaze is far away and I know she's thinking about him. Her eyes do that every time she thinks about him. "Do I do that?" I ask, watching her reflection in the mirror. She blinks twice and then stares at me like she doesn't know what I'm talking about. "When I think about Jordan...do I look like that? Do I get all...I don't know what you'd call it...all fucking doe eyed."

"Not all the time," she replies, refocusing on me and then leaning her chin in the middle of the top of my head, "but yeah, sometimes you do."

"It's why you're doing it isn't it?" I ask, looking at reflection, at how calm she looks. "This is why you're quitting isn't it? You don't want to be away from Max like I am with Jordan." Daze wrinkles her nose and looks back at me like I've just spoken in gibberish.

"If anything we're making up for lost time. Not like you and Jay boy. You guys have all that history, all that time behind you. I mean, when you two are together it's like, " she tips her head to the side and looks thoughtful, "I don't know how to explain it but you're so...so _comfortable_ with him, like you don't have to talk, even though you practically finish each other's sentences."

"We do?" Since Jordan got back on the ice, it feels like I've hardly seen him, especially in comparison to the amount of time that Max and Daze have been sneaking off to meet each other. Not that I begrudge her any of the time. I'm just jealous. Hey, at least I'm honest.

"Puhleeeze," she rolls her eyes at me again and goes back to fixing my make-up. "You two settle in together right away. Max and I are still getting used to each other, figuring things out, adjusting to each other. You two don't have to do that," she adds, carefully pressing the powder puff to my cheeks, covering up the tracks of my tears, "you have this emotional short hand. I bet you know what he's thinking most of the time without him having to tell you, right?" I don't even have to think about that. Of course I do and I'm pretty sure it's the same for him.

"Just because we 'get each other'," I flash the bunny ears around those words because they seem cliché and because I'm not sure if those are the words to actually describe what I have with Jordan, "doesn't mean that we can be the tiny percentage of people that can make a long distance relationship work."

"So _that's_ what this is about," Daze stands back to survey her handiwork, this compassionate sort of maternal look on her face. I'm not ever going to get used to her being like that. What the hell did Max do to my best friend? "You're worried that now you've finally given in and admitted that you're all moooshy for one another that you're going to fuck it up." There isn't much point in denying it and I've never kept anything from Daze anyways.

"He says he's a one woman man now but you know what they say, while the cat's away... I mean...your boy isn't exactly an angel either is he?" It's a spiteful thing to say and I'm sorry I do the minute I let the words escape my lips but it's too late to take them back. Fortunately she isn't phased by my bitchy comment.

"Well, I intend to give him enough reason not to stray and if there's one thing I've noticed about those Staal boys, it's that once they're tied down, they're solid as the rocks in their heads," she grins and then puts the powder puff down. "I know you picked Marc before because you never believed that Jordan would be ready to be yours and yours alone but I've seen him with you Kens and that boy...he loves you to pieces. If I was him, I'd worry about you."

* * *

"Whatchadoin?" I don't have to look up to know that our fearless leader is leaning over my shoulder. I also don't try and shut down the web page I'm on either. In fact, I'm kind of glad to get his input.

"I'm trying to figure out what to say to Kens tonight," I admit, looking down at the notes I've scribbled on the hotel note pad and then back up at the screen and sigh. "It all sounds so fucking fake. I don't want to sound like a loser but...I don't know what to say that won't sound like it's someone else's idea. What did you say to Tabby?"

"Doesn't matter what I said. You have to say whatever feels right to you," he tells me and then reaches around and grabs the note pad. I watch him read it, watch him raise and lower his eyebrows, purse his lips, nod and then finally shrug. "Yeah, I guess any of this is good but...why don't you just tell her why you want to marry her instead of all this romantic shit which, I mean c'mon let's be honest, isn't really your thing is it?"

"Yeah but...I mean that's why I'm doing this," I say indicating the screen of my lap top. "Shouldn't I _try_ to be, at least for this?"

"I dunno man. I think you're already planning a pretty big gesture and I don't really get that ring you got her but...I'm pretty sure she'll be happy no matter what you do. I mean, you said yourself, this is a pretty rough night for her so you're gonna make it better. I mean, if you really think she'll say yes that is." Sid's quick reflexes have him dancing out of my reach before I can lay a punch on him. Not that I'd hurt him, much. Not this close to the season ending. If we're going to get back on top, we're going to need him in the playoffs.

"What'd I miss?" Max stands in the doorway smiling at both of us, looking from one to the other like an eager puppy waiting for someone to throw a Frisbee.

"Jordan's popping the question," Sid explains.

"Old news," Max sighs and then throws himself on the bed. "Anyone wanna watch porn?"

"Seriously, what's wrong with you? You have a perfectly good wife at home." Sid laughs and then launches himself onto Max like he's a pile of freshly raked fall leaves.

"She's pregnant and bitchy. I thought you'd be sympathetic," Max groans and tries to wriggle free from the head lock Sid has him in.

"Try rubbing her feet, they like that," Sid suggests, letting Max get free, which is a mistake. Max wrestled in high school and it only takes the blink of an eye for him to turn the tables and have Sid trying to tap out.

"Every time I rub her feet it ends up in us having sex and I want a kid, not a litter of puppies," Max laughs, digging his knuckle into the top of Sid's head.

"That's not how it works!" Sid groans and elbows Max in the stomach.

"How can you be so sure mon ami? I apparently have super sperm, they got through a condom and she takes birth control and I still knocked her up. Sacre bleu! I should be charging for stud service!" Like he's just come up with a brilliant idea, he lets Sid go and stands up, looking thoughtful. Bad idea. Sid and I both pounce on him and drive him back onto the bed.

"Go near Kens with your super sperm and I'll rip your dick off!" I growl, pulling my hand back, fist curled, ready to fly.

"How can I be your best man if you kill me?" he asks, trying to look innocent which is something he can never actually pull off and digging in his pocket like he's got the ring, like I'd trust _him_ with it.

"Like anyone would have you," I laugh, sticking my index finger in my mouth, wetting it down good and then sticking it into his ear. "Ha! Wet Willie! Now, where's my ring?"

* * *

"Some of you know that this is Daze's last night with us," I announce, tears stinging in my eyes as I turn to send a half hearted glare at her while she raises her sticks in salute to the fans who are booing her leaving. No matter what she says, she'll be missed. "We've pretty much been the dynamic duo since we were in diapers, so having her leave is like having one of my arms cut off. I honestly don't know how I'm gonna do this without you babe," I add directly to her. She blows me a kiss. "But, what you don't know is that Max Talbot from the Pittsburgh Penguins...," the 'boo birds' come out and drown me out. I laugh and shake my head and hold the mic out for New York to have its say. "That's right Islanders fans, Talbot knocked her up. This is all _his_ fault." Just to add fuel to the fire our techs put up the video of Max fighting Matt Martin on the giant screen behind Daze and the arena erupts as they watch him skating in front of the Islander players in the box, taunting them. Laughing, Daze gets up, puts her sticks down on the snare drum and then gives the crowd the signal that she's willing to take them all on. My eyes fill with tears. I'm gonna miss her like crazy. "Okay, okay," I hold up my hands for a little quiet. "One last drum solo?" I ask her, expecting the lights to go down, the spot light to go on her and her kit. The lights do go down, but I'm still standing in a spot light while a mic appears in her hand.

"I'll bring the place down in a minute but first, I just want to say that you've been the best friend a girl could ask for," she tells me, still standing behind her drum kit. I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, smearing mascara and eyeliner in the process. "I'll miss you like crazy but it's gonna get a little hard for me to be back here," she adds rubbing her stomach and smiling. "I'll miss you, you crazy bitch," she grins at me and then blows another kiss. Tears are streaming down my face now.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, enough of this kissy mushy shit." Daze gets a funny look on her face and I turn at the sound of a familiar voice behind me to see Max strutting out onto the stage in his white, black and gold home jersey. He grins as the crowd boos like crazy, turning to wave to them which only makes them boo louder. "Yeah, I love you too," he grins at them like he's enjoying it. I turn to look up at Daze and she's got this little smile on her face and I wonder if I ever look at Jordy like that, or if he ever looks at me like that, like that's the only thing in the world that I need. "I'm very sorry I'm taking your friend away from you," he says as he reaches the middle of the stage where I'm standing. He reaches for my hand and I let him take it. Just for a second I flash back to that hotel room, a year ago, and feel my entire face get warm. "Well, not that sorry, eh ma petite?" he adds with a glance back at Daze, the same sort of tender, adoring expression on his face. "But we both wish you nothing but the best, most success, n'est-ce pas mon amour?" Daze nods and holds her hands over her heart. I return the gesture. "But we don't want you to think that we're leaving you alone, comprends?" I stare at him and shake my head. "You will," he whispers just for me and then leans in to kiss my cheek before walking away, leaving me alone in the middle of the stage. All of the lights go off and then, with a dramatic drum roll, one spot light goes on with an audible clicking sound, illuminating Jordan's golden hair and sky blue eyes.

I stare at him, my brain working overtime to try to make sense of their showing up out of the blue like this. They weren't supposed to be here until the morning. I wish, just for a second that I was wearing a watch, sure that they should still be playing at MSG. He smiles, that big, boyishly easy grin that tells me he knows what I'm worrying about and he thinks it's funny that I'm concerned about it because he's obviously not.

"That's right, we took a helicopter here right after the game to surprise you," he says as he begins to walk slowly across the stage in his faded jeans and the Pens baby blue third jersey that intensifies the sunny summer sky colour of his eyes. I'm holding my breath and it's so quiet that the crowd must be too. I guess Jordy hasn't pissed the Islanders fans off quite as much as Max has. "So a lot of shit has gone down in the last year," he says with that wide, tooth filled grin of his that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I know that you had other things in mind for this summer," he adds with a raise of one of his eyebrows that says what I'm glad he won't say in front of the crowd, what he won't remind me of in public, or in private for that matter. We don't talk about Marc. "But I'm just wondering," he continues as he comes to a stop just a step away from me, "if I can tempt you into spending the summer with me, on a beach maybe, at sunset, getting married."

My heart lurches up into my throat as I watch my Jordy boy going down on one knee in front of me, holding his hand out towards me and slowly unfolding his long fingers to reveal a black velvet box sitting in the palm of his hand. He actually laughs when I burst into tears and drop the microphone because my hands are shaking so bad.

"Open it for crying out loud!" I hear Daze calling from somewhere behind me but for some reason her voice sounds disembodied. In fact I don't hear the crowd either. Maybe it's my blood buzzing in my ears but it's like there's nothing and no one else but my J-boy, that ring and my heart fluttering in my chest like a panicked bird.

"Yeah, go on, open it," Jordan encourages me quietly, the mic sitting, turned off on the stage by his knee.

"I'm afraid I'll drop it," I tell him honestly, wiping my hands down the side of my thighs, which does little to alleviate the sudden case of sweaty palms I've developed. Not only are leather pants hot, tight and uncomfortable but they aren't very absorbent either.

"Then just say yes and I'll put it on you myself."

* * *

I was so sure what her answer was going to be until I actually ask her to give it to me. Now, I'm on one knee in front of her, in front of hundreds...a thousand people maybe, and I'm shitting my pants waiting for her to say something.

Jesus, you'd think I'd have learned to be patient.

"Look, I almost lost you because I wasn't willing to give up fucking around and being some kind of immature jackass. I almost let you marry my idiot boring ass brother. I don't want to lose you Kens. I want everyone to know that you're mine. So take this fucking ring and put it on and say yes so that I know you're mine."

It's not romantic. It's not even the big moment I thought it was going to be. It's just me, asking my best friend if she'll put up with me and I'm still shitting myself until she finally nods as her big, blue eyes fill up with tears and she grins down at me like I've done something super amazing which is so stupid because I'm just doing the only thing I can do. Want her. Want her so much it hurts.

I get up and I open the little box and she sobs out loud, this funny sound that's happy and scared and sad all at the same time which almost makes me feel better.

"It's so beautiful." It's not as big as the rock my brother had put on her hand but then Kens has never been that kind of girl.

"White gold and a black diamond, for my little Goth princess," I whisper, pulling the ring out of the box and holding it out towards her. She's clutching her hands to her chest and alternatively staring at the ring and then up at me. "You gonna let me put this on you or what?" Sniffing, she finally nods and then holds her hand out towards me. Her hand is visibly shaking and then I realize so is mine as I try and slip the ring on her finger. Her hand is so small and the vintage style band with the swoops and bows that frame the diamond look so tiny in my big, clumsy mitts that I'm afraid I'll drop the ring or crush her finger or something. "Fuck, look at me. I'm supposed to have good hands or something," I mutter. It makes her laugh, which is good.

"Eric's the one with the soft hands," she tells me as the ring finally slips onto her finger.

"Yeah, you always did like him best." I try and look serious and fail as she turns those big sapphire orbs of hers' up at me.

"That's not true," she sniffs, her eyes still glistening with tears even as she smiles up at me.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," I whisper, taking both of her hands in mine and leaning in to kiss her.

"Doesn't matter," she whispers back just as my lips are about to press against hers'. "You've got me now."


End file.
